The Days In The Cedar Forest
by sienna27
Summary: ZA Caryl. Pre-show with missing scenes of Carol and Daryl's first days together at the camp, through season one. Mix of known canon events & A/U twists. Friendship to start, short game to romantic involvement.
1. East Meets West

**Author's Note** : So, I had another idea :) And I PROMISED myself, (and my lovely friend, C *waves*) that I would not start another story in this fandom until I got the first one kicked waaaaay down the road. But that can is rolling along nicely, and this idea kept scratching my brain and if you don't deal with the itch, then you go crazy.

This is ZA Daryl and Carol, again starting pre-show. This is more traditional though to their relationship that we saw onscreen. So not so much 'overt AU,' but more my variation on missing scenes. Because they clearly 'knew' each other by the time the show started, and I figure for the battered housewife to not be afraid of the crazy redneck screaming at Officer Friendly for leaving his brother handcuffed in the city, that some things had already happened to make her trust him. This would be one of those things.

At some point here (post season 1 events) they will officially get together, but please know that this will be VERY slowly updated. Because I'd like to finish 'This Is Now' before I let my brain totally run off in another direction. More on that at the end.

Also FYI, new readers, I have stopped watching the show so that I can write. So if you leave a note (and I do love a note!) please, no spoilers for recent events :)

Now we open on my take, for Caryl's first official meeting.

* * *

" _The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed."_

 _-_ _C.G. Jung_

 _*/*/*_

 _Without heroes, we are all plain people and don't know how far we can go._

 _\- Bernard Malamud_

* * *

 **East Meets West**

It was the sound of a branch breakin' that caught Daryl's ear.

After nine hours out in the heat, tracking critters through the woods, he knew it coulda been nothin' more than a doe running through the leaves. But if these past few weeks had taught him anything, it was that things were hardly ever that simple anymore. And so he brought his bow up, and froze there in the middle of the fork in the trees. His ears were pricked, as he tipped his head slowly to the left.

The crack had come from the east, of that much he was sure.

And then he heard another noise . . . it sounded like a yelp. And then what was clearly a muffled scream.

He took off running.

The sound of the pine needles crunchin' beneath his feet, and his blood rushin' through his ears, were all he could hear until he broke through the brush. And that's when he saw it.

A walker.

A big mother. At least six foot something, and dressed in a dark business suit, now half in tatters . . . he was just about to drop on that new woman from the camp.

Carol.

Her name flew into Daryl's head, just as the bolt flew across the air. And it hit its mark.

Because that fucker went down, hard.

Hard enough that he actually . . . VERY unintentionally on Daryl's part . . . ended up landin' on top of the woman Daryl was tryin' to keep from being chomped on. And she let out another yelp when that rotten corpse knocked her flat out on her back. His eyes popped.

 _Ah shit!_

And so with her whimpering now while she scrambled to get out from under that bloated body which had to have tipped well over a deuce and a half, Daryl closed the last twenty feet still separatin' them.

While he was runnin' up, he shoved his bow back to his shoulder . . . and then his boot was coming out.

And he kicked that son of a bitch square in the ribs.

The body rolled over and hit the ground with a faint thud and burp of some nasty ass gasses. That's when Daryl's eyes started frantically tracking over the woman's body, looking for bites in her flesh or tears in her clothes.

Nothin' was jumping out at him.

There was definitely a splatter of gore on her shirt, and she was clearly terrified, but otherwise she didn't seem like that run-in had left her any worse for wear.

He felt a flash of rage spark up then.

Because it was just DAMN lucky she hadn't her guts ripped out! A person like her, no weapons, no skills . . . and a little _girl_ back in the camp(!) . . . she didn't have no fuckin' business AT ALL, bein' out in the woods here by herself!

So he lit in.

"What the HELL are you doin' out here, woman?!" He hissed, "you TRYIN' to get bit?!"

Her eyes snapped up to his, and for a second she just stared at him in shock. He could see that she was still terrified, and half in a daze about what'd happened.

There was also a whole flood of tears running down her face.

But he tried to ignore those. Because he was pissed. And he was gonna STAY pissed until he got some God damn answers about how she could be so fucking STUPID!

Finally she blinked and sniffled.

"No," she croaked out, "of course I wasn't trying to get bit! I was just, um," she brought her hands up then, and started scrubbing at her tears, furiously trying to wipe them away, "I just, I was . . ."

And then she stopped, with her palms pressed in against her face, covering over her cheeks and jaw. The terror had started to fall away from her eyes by then, but now Daryl was readin' a new emotion in there.

Embarrassment.

"I had to go to the bathroom," she whispered.

And Daryl's teeth ground together.

"Well, that's what the BUDDY system's for," he bit back, refusing to soften his tone. "And you're not gonna tell _me_ ," he continued with a smack of his fist against the tree beside him, "that those other ladies didn't tell _you,_ it ain't safe to be goin' off around here by yourself and dropping your pants!"

Yeah, maybe he was ridin' her hard on this thing given how she'd almost just died and all . . . but hell, everybody spent all their days now almost dyin'.

So that didn't make her special.

No, what made her special, was bein' NEW! And if she was a fuckin' idiot, he needed to know NOW, before she did something _else_ stupid, that got her infected and she brought that shit back into the camp!

And he could see her now suckin' in a ragged pant, and shaking her head.

"No, I . . ." she swallowed, "I just . . ."

Then she stopped . . . and she let out another harsh breath. Then her hands fell down to start twisting in her lap.

"I just wanted to go to the bathroom by myself," she finally finished on a whisper as her watery eyes locked onto his . . . he could see that pink comin' back to her cheeks again, "okay? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wander so far, but I had a stomachache. And I know it was stupid to go off alone, but," her eyes fell down to her lap, as her voice fell, "it's just been hard getting used to not having any privacy."

Daryl's jaw started to unclench at that. Then he looked off to the left, and through the brush that he'd come running through a minute before.

His attention bounced back to the woman on the ground.

"Yeah, well," he muttered, "better no privacy than dead with your panties around your ankles."

There was a lot less edge, (and volume), in his tone that time. Because all right, maybe he was startin' to feel just a LITTLE bit sorry for her. Yeah, she'd done somethin' stupid, but . . . he huffed out a breath . . . it probably _was_ harder on a lady gettin' used to living like this.

Like animals.

And he saw her biting her lip, before she breathed out a soft, "yeah, I learned my lesson on that one."

Then she shook her head, and started trying to push herself up off the ground . . . 'cept she wasn't havin' much luck with that. Not with walker guts all around her on one side and the walker itself on the other.

There was no clear place to put her hands to brace herself.

And after about two seconds of starin' at her fumbling to shimmy herself outta that mess, Daryl realized there really wasn't any upside to bein' a COMPLETE asshole to a lady whose only crime had been wantin' to take a shit without an audience. So he let out a sigh.

Then he put his hand out.

When her eyes darted up to his, he saw surprise there. The nerve in his left temple twitched.

"Well, come on," he grumbled, "ain't got all day."

She blinked and swallowed again . . . but she didn't reach for his hand. Instead she just continued to look up at him with that same look of surprise.

Though now there was some hurt in there too.

"Why are you still angry with me?" She finally whispered. "Why isn't me just being sorry enough?" Then her voice faded as her eyes started to water again, "why isn't that ever enough?"

Feeling a stab of something right in his gut, Daryl's fingers curled back into a loose fist. And for a moment he just looked down at this woman who was throwing him further and further off his day, with each new sentence out of her mouth.

Then suddenly his eyes widened. Because he'd just taken note of something he hadn't seen before.

Bruises.

Faint ones on her jaw . . . and finger marks on her shoulders.

And a cut, and some swellin', around the corner of her lip.

Those weren't the kinds of things he'd usually miss, but up until today he hadn't seen her up close before. And today, up until NOW, he'd been too busy being pissed off at her for wandering out in the woods, to really look anywhere on her face besides at her eyes.

Now that he had though, he was startin' to feel like a real dick.

Because even though he'd taken note that her husband . . . Ed, Daryl suddenly remembered his name . . . was a lazy, loud mouthed, piece of shit, loser type . . . that was all he'd taken note of.

He hadn't picked up that he liked to smack around his woman too.

In his defense though, on not pickin' up on that like he should've, those people had just got there. Barely forty-eight hours now since the three of 'em . . . there was the little one too, a daughter . . . had arrived at camp. And while they were doin' whatever they did to settle in, he'd been off hunting most all those wakin' hours. So he hadn't really seen any of 'em more than just in passin'. He got a quick glance at the woman that first night at dinner. And then a slightly better look at her through the scope when he'd been on guard duty the night before. She was thin, and she was pretty.

And she had a sweet smile when she talked to her girl.

That was about all the impression he'd made of her. Hell he'd only learned their names 'cuz he'd heard the other ladies talking when they were walking around collectin' laundry. It was Carol, and Ed . . . and Sophia. That was the little one. The one back in the camp now with that daddy of hers who liked to smack her mama around.

And maybe her too.

He bit his lip.

"I didn't mean to still be usin' a harsh tone there," he finally murmured back, trying to keep his voice soft as possible, "it's just how I talk. You don't gotta take it personal," he gave her a look, "cuz it ain't."

It was the best he could manage for an apology, because sayin' sorry wasn't really his thing.

Still though, she seemed to take it in. Because she blinked and looked down, and when she looked back up, he saw that her eyes were mostly dry again.

Then she gave him a slow nod.

"Okay," she sniffed, "I'll remember that."

"All right then," he cleared his throat in an effort to just move on now, "so you ready to get up?"

'Cuz it'd been a good four to five minutes now she'd been sitting on the ground with a walker rottin' away three inches to the left.

She had a good smell tolerance, he'd give her that.

That's when he saw her nose wrinkle . . . almost like she'd heard that last thought . . . right before she put her hand out.

"Yes," she gave a sharp nod, "please."

So he closed his fingers around hers . . . and yanked her up and away from that nasty piece down there on the ground. Unfortunately he was standing a little too close though when he made that move, because she ended up kind of bouncing against his shoulder when she slipped past him. When that happened though, he got a whiff of something light and flowery.

It was her hair.

"You still got shampoo?" He huffed in surprise. Because that was the kind of thing most people, (when fleein' for their lives), had not thought to bring with them.

To her credit, she seemed to get that. Because her mouth twisted in a faint, wry, smile.

"It was just a little sample one," she whispered back, while doin' a self-conscious brush of her fingers over those short, silver, spikes, "and I hardly need much, so I've rationing out just a drop every few days. I think it might last another week or so."

"Hmph," he took a step back and nodded, "well just don't let anybody swipe it from ya. 'Cuz best we got around here the last few days is just some bar soap and wet wipes. And the other ladies ain't been too happy 'bout that."

Carol's eyes widened.

"Oh," she bit her lip, "well then maybe I should be nice and share."

And his eyebrow quirked up.

"Or maybe you should just _trade_ ," he countered softly, "'cuz this is the new world now. You got something people want, you should get something in return. You don't gotta be nice for nothing no more."

Her lips pressed together.

"It doesn't cost anything to be nice," she murmured back, almost like she was afraid to contradict him. And you didn't have to be Kreskin to wonder why that was. So he just let out a heavy sigh.

"These days," he slipped his bow down from his shoulder as he shot her a look, "it costs everything to be nice."

Then he spun around and let another bolt fly . . . it dropped the walker coming up on them through the brush, twenty paces out.

From behind him, he heard Carol gasp.

"Oh my God," she panted out, "I didn't even hear him coming."

"Yeah," he shot her a look, "and that's why you ain't gonna be wanderin' around the woods by yourself no more, right?"

Her fist came up to press against her chest.

"Never again," she promised. So he gave her a quick nod for the plan to make better choices in the future. And though Daryl knew it was time they got a move on . . . two walkers in less than ten minutes made him a little antsy that maybe there was a crowd in the area . . . he couldn't help but notice Carol had started rubbing her stomach again.

"You still got a bellyache?" He asked with a side eye.

She nodded.

"Yeah, but," her hand stilled, almost like she was embarrassed that she was talking about it, "I'm sure it's nothing. Just getting used to the new diet, probably." Her lips twisted apologetically, "never had game meat before."

"Hmph," he grunted, just before he put his finger up, "wait here one second."

And then with her sputtering, "Wait, what? Where are you going?" from behind him, Daryl stepped around the walker, and continued on about fifteen or so paces until he reached a small stream cutting through the woods. That's where he stopped. Because he needed to get something that he'd seen earlier, but hadn't thought about much about then.

The little yellow flowers.

First though he rinsed his hands off in the rushing water, before he reached back to pluck out about a half dozen of the little plants by their stems, so he could get the roots out too.

Then he held them in a loose fist as he walked back over to where he'd left the pretty lady with the silver hair.

The whole detour had taken about two minutes.

"Here," he murmured, while holding them out in front of her, "it's fennel. Help settle your stomach."

And he saw her eyes widen right before she slowly reached out for the small bundle of flowers.

"Oh," she breathed out softly, "thank you. That's very nice. And I mean no offense of course, but um," her nose wrinkled as she looked up at him with an apologetic face, "are you sure it's fennel and not something else?"

Feeling a faint quirk of amusement . . . something that was mighty rare those days . . . he raised his arms halfway up his body, while doin' a slow three sixty turn in front of her. He made sure she could see the knives and squirrels hanging from his belt on the one side, and the satchel full of wild berries and mushrooms hanging down from the other.

Then of course there was the quiver and bow up over his shoulder.

"I'm not sure," he muttered drily, "but does it seem like I might be a person who knows what wild fennel looks like?"

At that, he saw her cheeks flush a light pink, right before her lips started to twitch.

"Yes," she gave him a little smile, "I guess if anyone would know, it would be you." Then she held the flowers up between them.

"So do I just chew it?" She asked him with a curious tip of her head. He shrugged at that.

"You can, or when we get back you can boil some water and make a tea. If you dry out the rest in the sun tomorrow," he jerked his chin, "you can hold onto it for next time you ain't feelin' well. It'd only be good for tea then though. But if you need more just," he rolled his eyes, "say something." He turned and waved his hand, "I'm out here all the time, so ain't no bother."

For a moment then she just looked over at him with an expression on her face that he couldn't quite read. And he kinda prided himself on bein' able to read most everyone, all the time.

But this face here was a mystery.

And yeah, he coulda come straight out and just asked her what she _was_ thinking, but that would've required a bit more conversation than he was really lookin' to engage in that day.

Or ever.

So it was fortunate that she finally tipped her head forward, to give him another little nod.

"All right," she murmured, "I'll remember."

Her attention then dropped down as she pulled out one of the longer stems, before she moved to tuck the rest of the flowers into her pants pocket. And seein' then that she was ready to go . . . she had her little net bathroom bag with the toilet paper and hand sanitizer already up on her shoulder . . . he turned around to start leading her out of the woods. They needed to get a move on.

The shadows were gettin' longer.

Plus it was a good fifteen minute walk back to the camp, and he knew they needed to make that time before anybody realized Carol was missing. 'Cuz the last thing they needed was a search party comin' out looking for her, and people finding them both together. It wouldn't look good for somebody in her situation. Because a husband like hers would be lookin' for any excuse.

And Daryl sure as hell wasn't gonna give him one.

But it was after they'd been walkin' along maybe five minutes or so, in total silence, that he shot her a look out of the corner of his eye.

"So you're Carol?" He asked softly.

Yeah, he kinda already knew that. But he'd just realized he should probably actually _confirm_ the name before he went off and used it. Just in case he'd heard wrong and it was like "Sheryl" or something.

Then he'd look like an idiot.

But he could see her giving him a tight nod as she swallowed down the bite of fennel in her mouth . . . the piece in her hand was about half gone.

"Yeah," she cleared her throat, "that's right. And you're um," her brow wrinkled, "you're Daryl, is that right?"

"Yeah," he let out a faint grunt as he kicked a rock out of the path, "that's me." His lips pursed.

"I'm Daryl."

* * *

 _A/N 2: Thus, The Caryl, was born! :)_

 _I'm not generally much for the 'damsel in distress' tropage, but my brain does just keep going there with these two. But I think given what a mouse Carol was to start, it's almost impossible to write a 'meet/cute' (such as anything is cute in the ZA) where SHE could save his ass instead of the other way around. If I think of one, I'll be sure to share it though :) But the saving of one's ass by the other, is one quick way to build in an initial trust so I felt that worked for canon. And that's just again given how she clearly wasn't afraid of him getting loud and angry and confrontational, when somebody with her home life should have been wary of that kind of behavior in a man._

 _There were a few intentional echoes here from my meet for them in this story, and my meet for them in This Is Now. Anyone who knows me from Criminal Minds, knows I like the 'string theory' approach to writing :) One thing goes different, but other elements continue to ripple around._

 _Also I do (unfortunately for my brain) have a series of scenes in my head following along with these two in the days before and after Rick shows up. But again, I'm REALLY planning on not actively pushing this right now. So let's consider this a standalone 'meet and greet' until my psyche insists on coming back here again._

 _And FYI, "The Cedar Forest" is a realm of the gods. Think Valhalla, but for the ancient Mesopotamians. It really did seem o fit perfectly for this crew._

 _So hope you liked it! Thanks everybody! :)_


	2. Grits, Snits, and Peppermints

**Author's Note:** I wasn't on planning updating here again so soon, but I got a little stuck on This Is Now. Not blocked, (don't want to cause panic in the streets :)) I just have what I call a "knot" in one of the sections, and it was slowing me down so rather than giving myself a headache trying to get it smoothed out, I put it aside for a bit and picked this up instead. I figured it would help clear my thoughts, and it really did! So this backburner story, is no longer the sad, red headed stepchild of my TWD fic, it's finally got a purpose in life :)

This chapter is a little longer because if you've been reading my stuff, you know it's nearly impossible for me to write a 'snippet' of anything. But we've got some nice Caryl bits, and a little humor, so hopefully you'll all enjoy it :)

And there's an 'element' I added to Merle here, that I feel like was true, but I'm not hundred percent that it was. I'll explain at the end.

Picking up with them getting back to camp.

* * *

 **Grits, Snits, and Peppermints**

Carol's nose started to wrinkle.

She'd just gotten a whiff of something. It sort of smelled like food, but . . . she tipped her head back and took another sniff . . . it wasn't all that appetizing.

"Smell's like Andrea's cookin' today."

Hearing Daryl's faint grunt of disapproval as they moved forward through the overgrown foliage, the corner of Carol's mouth quirked up. And seeing a possible bonding point there . . . given his demonstrated survival skills, if at all possible, Daryl seemed like the kind of person you'd want on your side out here . . . she hastened to quicken her steps.

He was starting to get a little ahead of her.

"Does it really taste as bad as it smells?" She asked softly.

And he turned to give her a look.

"Friday was her last turn. On that day's run, we brought back a shitload of those Chef Boyardee cans of spaghetti and meatballs," he shook his head, "all she had to do was heat 'em up. But she burned all of it. Then she got all snippy 'cuz everybody was pissed off we had to eat black spaghetti."

Christ, he wasn't no cook, but he'd been makin' canned spaghetti since he was SIX years old! So how's a GROWN woman not know how to make something HOT without settin' it on FIRE?!

How was that fuckin' possible?!

And looking over to see Carol shaking her head at what he'd said, he could tell she probably had some likeminded thoughts on that point. He started to look away, but then he eyeballed her again.

"How's your cookin'?" He asked, with a slightly suspicious tone.

"Um," Carol tipped her head, "pretty good actually. Ed's very particular with his meals, so uh," her eyes fell as she finished with a worried bite of her lip, "burnt spaghetti isn't going to go over well with him."

"Hmph," Daryl grunted, "well, don't know if you picked up any set chores yet but," he gave her a knowing look, "maybe you might wanna volunteer to help with dinner. Just to be sure the spaghetti don't get burnt again."

Though part of him wanted to say that husband of hers could go fuck himself if he wasn't happy with his campfire meals, Daryl knew from experience of livin' with his daddy, that it don't matter whose fault it was, the person who took hell for the bad food, was the one the asshole could get away with hittin.' In his house that had been his momma.

And then later it'd been him.

So he knew if Carol wanted to avoid an extra ruckus, it'd just be best if she could get out ahead of that kind of crap before Andrea's lousy cooking, caused her problems after hours. And he could see from the way Carol was givin' a slow nod, as she wrapped her arms up around herself, that she was likely of a similar mindset.

"Yeah," Carol murmured, "if you don't think anyone would get offended, maybe I could volunteer to regularly," her lips pursed, "pitch in with dinner."

"Offended, pfft," Daryl snorted, "trust me, ain't none of those ladies gonna be offended to get help on their cookin' nights. That's their least favorite thing to do. Well, next to laundry that is," he shot her a look, "I hear 'em bitchin' about that ALL the time."

Since he tended to be a person who didn't talk unless he had somethin' to say, people more often than not, would forget he was in the vicinity and say stuff they wouldn't otherwise in front of him.

It also helped that he had real good ears.

But he could see from how Carol's eyes had fallen down to the path, and her face had gotten a little pink, that she wasn't sure what to make of his comment about the other ladies bitchin'. Like maybe she thought he was just takin' a shot at them 'cuz they were ladies, and he could get away with it. So he raised his eyebrow.

"You wanna hear what the guys bitch about?"

Seeing her eyes slowly come back up to his, he continued with a grunt, "guard duty and supply runs." He kicked a rock out of the path, "everybody's got their shit to do, and nobody's happy about it." He sighed, "but that's just how it is."

The walkers were a bitch, but they really weren't the worst thing about all this. Mostly it was just how all their choices had been taken away. You didn't get to wake up in the mornin' and _decide_ what you were gonna do that day. Your day was set by your skill level. And so far, for the people in _their_ group, the skills had fallen along the old fashioned lines. These men knew weapons, and these women did not. And that was that. So the ladies, (all of 'em), were on the domestic chores, while the men were off on the huntin', and the gatherin', and the killin'.

Just like olden times.

But olden times had come back again. Once or twice in his life, while he was out in the forest stalking a buck or a wild boar, Daryl had maybe wished that he'd been born back in a different century. One where the 'living off the land' skills like his, were something that society valued, and not something to do look down on 'cuz people assumed you were just a redneck loser. Then one day he woke up, and he'd been dropped back into living a life he would've had a couple hundred years ago. Somehow his wish had come true.

And he'd give just about anything if the universe would take it back.

Realizing then . . . from Carol's silence . . . that he mighta gotten a bit too moody on this point, Daryl shot her another quick look.

"You still got that bellyache?"

And he saw her give a quick shake of her head, as a faint smile touched her lips.

"No," one of her hands dropped to touch her midsection, "it's better now. I guess the fennel helped."

"Yeah," he let out a faint huff, "usually works pretty good. And if it's just the game meat, your body should get used to it within a week or so. But," he shook his head, "we ain't gettin' enough fruits and vegetables right now either, so that's probably not helping."

He heard Carol sigh at that. And then, "yeah, I think that spoonful of peas we got last night, was the first vegetable I've had all week. It's the kids I'm worried about though," she continued softly. "We adults can get by for awhile without balanced meals, but they're all still growing. I just wonder how long they can go on eating like this," her voice faded, "before they start getting sick."

Daryl bit his lip.

"Well," he shot her a glance, "if it helps, Lori's had bottles of kiddy vitamins and those supplement drinks, on the top of Glen's supply list since we all met up here. He just ain't had any luck yet finding 'em. And for today," he patted his bag, "I did get some wild berries. Wasn't a lot left on the bushel, but everybody should get two of three." Then he paused, before adding with a bit of a grumble. "You can have my share for your girl, if you want. She needs 'em more than I do."

It wasn't right at all, these little ones running around all day with rumblin' bellies. And Carol had a point, if they didn't start gettin' proper meals again soon, they were gonna start getting sick. Or just straight up breakin' bones when they fell down.

And breakin' a bone these days could be a death sentence.

Feeling a faint ache in her chest at that kind offer from a man who seemed so hard and gruff on the outside, Carol had to clear her throat before she spoke again.

"Thank you," she whispered back, "that's uh," she nodded, "thank you."

Though she wanted to say, "no, no, you keep that food for yourself," it was true, that little bit of extra Vitamin C would do Sophia more good than it did him.

It was clear though that Daryl didn't want to talk about that anymore, because all he did was grunt, and push another branch back out of their way. And not wanting to push the conversation . . . any conversation . . . more than that, Carol kept quiet the rest of the way down the path. But once they reached the edge of the woods . . . by her estimation, they seemed to be about thirty feet back from breaking through the tree line . . . Daryl stopped short.

So she did too.

"Okay," he pointed to the left, "you keep going down that way for about forty paces, then you go left and you'll come out over behind Lori's tent. Better for you poppin' out from down there," he gave her a look, "than people seein' you come out of here with me in the middle of camp."

"Oh," Carol's eyes widened, "right. Yes," she nodded, "thank you."

God, that's all she would've needed, was for Ed to see her coming out of the woods with another man.

He'd break her jaw for that.

So with a final thank you wave to Daryl, she continued on down the way that he told her to go. And when she got down to the area where she figured she was supposed to step out, she turned back to see that Daryl was still standing there watching her.

He raised his hand up and waved it to the left.

And taking that as confirmation that she'd be coming out in the right area, she continued forward, stumbling slightly over a root sticking up from the ground, before she popped out onto the grass. And there in front of her, just like Daryl said . . . was Lori's tent.

A quick peek around the corner, confirmed that there was nobody in there. But of course she'd left Sophia with Lori, over by Dale's camper. The kids were doing their school lessons and Lori had told Carol she could take a little break if she wanted.

She'd keep an eye on Sophia.

And really, near death experience notwithstanding . . . Carol let out a slow breath as she started circling around their small compound . . . it had been nice to have a break. God knew she loved her baby more than anything, but all these weeks now with the world crumbling apart, she'd barely let Sophia out of her sight for more than a few minutes at a time. And that was basically just back home to go to the bathroom. Then once they'd hit the road, she'd had that girl attached to her hip.

Except for today.

When she was out in the woods with Daryl, Carol hadn't had any worries about Sophia's safety, but now that she was back in camp, she couldn't deny how happy she was to see her daughter sitting there in the shade by the camper, with Lori and her little boy Carl. The kids were giggling about something as they scribbled in their notebooks. Carol let out a heavy sigh.

 _It was good to be back._

/*/*/*/

That night they ate dinner around six. Not that people kept that close an eye on the time anymore, but Daryl knew that habits like that died hard, and six was when they were supposed to eat, so somehow, no matter what else was goin' on, things always lined up that way. And when their little group gathered together, eatin' Andrea's version of a "soup" . . . navy beans, water, and canned carrots, that she'd boiled down to a HORRIFYIN' mush . . . alongside his two slightly over-roasted squirrels, Daryl couldn't help but to keep half an eye down the other end of their chow line. He was watchin' Carol's husband (the asshole) to see how was reactin' to their dinner.

He could see him gruntin' and makin' faces and comments as he pushed the food around his bowl. And off to the side, slowly picking away at her own pile of mush, he could see Carol shooting her husband more than a few worried glances, with each grunt and comment that he made. If it was already clear to Daryl, then he knew it had to be more than crystal clear to her . . . Ed did not like his dinner. But it wasn't like they were at a restaurant.

The chef wasn't takin' this one back.

So like it or not, Daryl saw that jackass keep shovelin' the food in, even while he bitched about it the whole time. Then when he was about half done, he threw his bowl down on one of the rocks by the fire pit, and whipped the fork and knife down on top of it.

It made a hell of a racket.

A loud enough one actually, that Daryl lowered his own bowl and tipped his head back, eyeing the woods, just to make sure that dumb fuck hadn't just run a different kind of dinner bell. And while he was doin' that, he heard Shane and Merle both, layin' in to Ed for stirring up the noise.

It was probably the first time _, ever_ in his life, that Merle and a cop had agreed on anything!

But pretty much _everyone_ was in agreement that Ed was a useless piece of shit, who was just there to suck on the group teet, without giving back nothin' in return. And he would've been well on his way to gettin' his ass kicked to the curb, if not for that pretty wife and little daughter of his.

There was no way the group was gonna vote to send them off.

And it was just as the hissed back and forth was dyin' down . . . Ed actually tried to _defend_ himself for throwin' that "slop"(!) . . . when Daryl heard the sound he was hopin' not to hear.

The branches crackin.'

He knew Merle heard it too. Because he'd just finished throwin' a "fuck you, asshole!" over to Ed, and then he was droppin' his bowl, and grabbin' up his bow and quiver.

And he was making those moves just as fast as Daryl was.

Then the two of them were on their feet, and Daryl was yelling, "walkers!" to the group, as he and Merle started running towards the trees, trying to spot those fuckers before they broke through into the camp.

From behind him he could hear the sounds of their people scattering. The women would be grabbin' up the little ones to hide in the camper. The men would be pulling out their own weapons and rushin' to their stations, just in case there were more walkers than he and Merle could handle on their own.

Mostly though . . . the agreed plan was . . . if there were just a few strays, that the Dixon boys would handle 'em, alone. Because with their weapons, they could kill those fuckers quieter . . . he brought his bow up to aim . . . and faster, than anybody else. And that's what you what you wanted these days . . . he let loose the first bolt . . . a quiet kill. And so that's what he and Merle did.

They took care of business.

And they were doing well, knocking 'em out fast one after another . . . it was only maybe a half dozen or so coming through all clumped together, so it was a lot like carnival shooting . . . when they got down to the last. It was an old woman in her pink bathrobe, and matchin' slippers. Daryl hated those ones. The little old people who never had a chance, still shuffling around for eternity in their stained pajamas.

It made him sad.

Not that that was stopping him from raisin' up his bow again . . . but then Merle got her first.

So Daryl let out a breath, and stepped back, just watchin' the trees . . . and listenin'. He gave it a full minute, and then finally he nodded and turned to call back to the others.

"All clear!"

That's when the men brought their guns down, and the ladies and the little ones started to tumble back out of the trailer again.

Everybody was lookin' over at Ed. Everybody except Carol. She just had her head in her hands.

And she was cryin'.

Seeing her like that, made Daryl feel about as sad as the old lady in her pink bathrobe had. 'Cuz it wasn't Carol's fault her husband was an asshole. But he knew though, she had to have been thinking that this was gonna be the thing that got them kicked out.

And for close to a minute, everybody was just real quiet. Even the kids. And then Shane finally broke the silence by shovin' his Glock back into his holster.

"Come on now," he let out on a sigh as he started walking towards the walker pileup, while wavin' the other men forward, "need to get 'em cleaned up before sundown."

After he said that, he took maybe three more steps, then he spun around, and pointed straight back at Ed still standing there like a dumbass, with no shame whatsoever.

"You even think about walkin' away right now," he growled, "and your ass is on the road tonight."

Then Shane turned back and started walking again.

When he was going past Daryl, he caught his eye . . . and he gave him a tight, half nod. It was the most that cop could manage for a thanks, but as Daryl started pullin' his work gloves out from his pocket, he knew he didn't care about gettin' thanks from anyone, let alone the almighty Shane. 'Cuz when he killed those walkers, he was doin' it more for himself and his brother than anyone else in the group. It was pure selfishness on his part. He let out a slow breath as he walked over to grab up the first body.

 _That's all it was._

/*/*/*/

The next morning Daryl woke up to the smell of food cookin'.

Which was weird, 'cuz it was like five am and nobody else was ever up that early besides him, (occasionally Merle), and whoever was on the roof doin' guard duty. Right now Merle was still snorin' away, two _feet_ away, and through the flap in the tent . . . while he was pullin' on his boots . . . Daryl could see the faint outline of T-Dog slumped back in the sand chair up on the camper roof.

That shoulda been it for folks out and about.

It wasn't though. Because after he'd grabbed up his weapons, and he'd stepped outside, stretchin', he looked across their small patch of grass and dirt that they called 'living space,' to see Carol already up, and leanin' over the fire. This time of day, the fire wasn't usually more than just hot coals waitin' to get stirred up again. But she already had those flames going at least knee high, and he could see she had the cast iron out.

She was stirring some kind of something around inside of it.

The whole scene was very curious. And not really needin' to be on his way quite yet . . . he did pretty much keep his own hours on the huntin' detail . . . as he tucked his pistol into his belt and his bow up over his shoulder, he decided to go check out what she was up to. But given how she wasn't looking in his direction, he opted to NOT scare the crap out of her by just sneaking on up to the fire pit.

So he scuffed his boots a bit so she'd hear him comin'.

And sure enough, two scuffs later, and her eyes darted up and over, to lock onto his. It was still almost pitch all around, but there was enough light coming off the flames to see pretty clearly. And to his surprise, he saw Carol break into a little smile when she saw him coming.

Almost like she'd been waitin' on him.

It was a silly idea, but still, he found his eyebrow inchin' up somewhat suspiciously.

"What the hell are you doin' up this early?"

The words came out in his usual gruff grumble tone . . . and he saw that sweet smile immediately fall away. And he kinda hated himself for causin' that to happen.

Because now she just seemed embarrassed.

"I um," she started to stammer, "I wanted to thank you for what you did yesterday," she tipped her head, "saving me in the woods and all, so I uh, well I," she swallowed as she turned her attention down to the contents of her pan, "made you breakfast." Then her eyes shifted back to his, "I just figured seeing as how you've been gone the last two mornings when the ladies have been doling out the oatmeal, that you don't usually get anything to eat before you go."

Now feeling like a complete asshole for not bein' able to roust up a civil tone for the woman . . . he mighta just woke up, but he still coulda tried a bit harder to not be a dick . . . Daryl bit down on his lip.

"That was nice of ya," he answered in a much softer tone, "but," he shook his head, "it wasn't necessary. Lori usually gives me a napkin of something leftover from the day before, to take with me when I leave." He pulled the small white, paper clad, lump out of his pants pocket.

"Think this one's a biscuit from lunch," he muttered as he held it up.

Not like he and Lori hadn't had their run-ins on occasion . . . usually they spilled off her more _regular_ run-ins with Merle . . . but mostly they got along okay enough. And she always made sure he didn't leave in the mornings with an empty belly. She mighta been a cop's wife, but her boy seemed to be comin' up okay, and at her core, Lori did seem to be a decent person. He'd give her that.

And that wasn't something he gave to most people.

"Well, uh," Carol cleared her throat, "I made spam and grits," she twisted her hands together, "if you'd like something hot."

"Spam and grits," he sputtered back, almost in shock as he shoved the napkin clad biscuit back into his pocket, "where in this HELL on earth, did you find spam and grits?!"

All right . . . he shot a quick look around . . . that came out a little too loud. But hot DAMN, he hadn't had fried spam in a month! Every time Glen went out, he'd been beggin' that Chinaman to find him a can. He'd even promised him his own squirrel for dinner if he could dig one up.

But for some reason that offered trade had not gone over as well as he'd hoped it would.

"Um," Carol gave Daryl back a shy smile, "I brought them from home. When we were leaving I threw all the food we had left, into a duffel bag. It wasn't much," she shrugged, "that's why we had to leave, we were running out of food. But I still had a box of Bisquick, a half bag each of flour and sugar, one box of apple cinnamon cheerios, a box of grits and a half case of spam. When we got here I offered up everything to Lori as a good will gesture to join the group, except for the grits, the cheerios and the spam." Her lips pressed together, "I wasn't sure how long you'd let us stay, and I didn't want to leave us with nothing if we had to go."

Though Daryl knew her words weren't really intended as an insult, he still found himself scowlin' back at them.

"We woulda never taken your food, and then sent you off to starve."

"Yeah, but," she gave him a soft, sad, smile, "I didn't know that then. And," she bit her lip, "I'm still a little worried that Shane's going to say something about us moving on."

If Ed kept up behaving the way he did last night, she didn't see how they'd possibly be able to stay. God, he'd had a _temper tantrum_ and brought on a WALKER attack! People don't forgive that easily. Her lips pressed together.

Nor should they.

But then she saw Daryl let loose another scowl as he dropped down onto one of the chairs they kept near the fire pit.

"Shane ain't the boss here," he let out on grunt, "he just thinks he is. And besides that, Lori's got him wrapped around her finger, and that woman's got a will on her. So she's not gonna let anybody push you and your girl off."

Not that he was inclined to let that happen either, just on the principle of it bein' a shit thing to do, but that wasn't the type of comment he was likely to say out loud.

Certainly not to the woman in question.

Still though, he could see the way she was lookin' kinda curious at him over the fire, that she was maybe wonderin' what side of the issue he came down on, when it came to whether her family should stay or go.

Again though, that wasn't a point he wished to discuss.

So instead, to distract her, he waved his hand over towards the coffee pot sittin' there down by her leg. Even though it was still dark all around them, he could see the flames glintin' off the metal.

"Something in that thing?" He grunted, "Or you just puttin' out decorations?"

And Carol smothered over a faint chuckle as she reached down for the thick black handle on the small silver pot.

"No," her mouth quivered, "it's not just for decoration. I gave T-Dog a cup already."

And as she picked up one of the other mugs she had on the towel down by her feet, she shot him a quick look. "I assume you take it black?"

He tipped his head.

"I do." He answered softly, while watching her fill the cup, "not that there's much choice in the matter lately."

"Well," she pulled the pot away right before her gaze drifted over her shoulder, "there's a little sugar and some of that dry creamer stuff in the trailer." Her eyes shot back to his, "do you want me to get it?"

Starting to feel a might uncomfortable, Daryl's brow furrowed at her offer.

"If I want it I can get it." Then he shot her a pointed look. "You don't gotta wait on me. You do know that, right?"

"I uh," she swallowed and looked down, "I was just being nice." Then her eyes slowly came back up to his.

"But you already told me I need to stop that, didn't you?" Her lips pressed together as her voice faded, "guess I don't listen very well, but," she stood up to pass him the mug of coffee, "Ed always says that."

As Daryl reached over to take the cup, he let his index finger brush against her thumb. And when he saw her eyes widen, he added one more point.

"I said what I said," he murmured with a faint stroke of her finger, "so nobody'd take advantage of ya. And he said what _he_ said, just to make you feel bad about yourself. So don't put those two thoughts together in your head," his jaw tightened, "'cuz they came from different places."

Watching the tears slowly fill Carol's eyes, Daryl felt a pang in his chest.

"I know your situation ain't my business," he continued softly, while slipping the cup from her fingers . . . she was gonna burn her wrist if she stood over the fire any longer, "I just wanna make sure you understand, your husband and me," his lips pursed as he watched her arm fold back to her chest, "we ain't the same."

For a second she just looked over at him, with those big blue eyes filled with shiny pools of tears reflectin' back from the fire light. Then one of those tears finally spilled over.

It started to slide down her cheek.

"I already knew you weren't the same," she whispered, "that's why I left him to get up to make you breakfast."

Daryl blinked, and looked down, because he did NOT know what to say to that. So for a few seconds there was just silence. Then finally he took a deep breath.

His eyes snapped back to hers.

"All right, well," he slowly exhaled, "like I said, you didn't have to make me nothin', but it is already made," he tipped his head, "and it does smell good."

Her lips curved then in a soft, watery, smile.

"Better than Andrea's?" She whispered back with a sniffle. And he gave a wry snort.

"Pfft, please. If Andrea was gonna make _me_ breakfast, first, the world woulda had to end for a second time, and second," he slowly dropped back into his chair, "it'd probably be something she scraped off her shoe, and it'd still somehow be burnt to a crisp."

The joke was enough to drain the remaining tension from the moment. And so with Carol now scrubbing the tears from her face as she let out a faint giggle, he finally took a sip of the coffee she'd handed him a minute ago.

"Hmph," he grunted, while swallowing it down, "this is good. What'd you do?"

She blinked once, before giving him a confused shrug.

"I just cleaned the pot. Though," her nose wrinkled a bit as her hands fell back to her lap, "it did have kind of a thick layer of black on the inside. Maybe nobody else realized that wasn't supposed to be the color in there."

God did she hope that was the case, otherwise these people really were TERRIBLE cooks!

Either way, now that she and Daryl had moved back to their easier conversation, she picked up the heavy scrap of dark terry cloth, that the women used for a pot holder.

Then she moved the frying pan off from the coals where she'd had it warming, and over to the stump. And with the big wooden spoon, she started scooping out onto one of the three plates she had next to her, a hearty serving of grits, and three thick slices of the fried spam. Yes, they were trying to conserve food, but this was a 'Thank You for Very _Directly_ Saving My Life,' breakfast. And this was her personally bought stash of food from her local Kroger's in the greater metro area.

She could dole it however she saw fit.

And though she'd noticed that Daryl seemed to prefer to eat with his fingers rather than any other type of utensil, she figured even he might prefer grits with a spoon. So once she'd picked up another plate, and scooped out a little of the grits for T-Dog, along with ONE slice of the spam . . . yes, that might have seemed stingy but he was ONLY getting some of Daryl's breakfast because she would have looked like a complete bitch for not giving him any good food at all(!) . . . she put the wooden spoon down on the first plate, and passed it over to Daryl.

"Mmm," he murmured, while he took it from her hands, "thanks."

The tone was the same as the usual grumble of disinterest that she'd previously heard from him when a plate was passed his way. But it was clear from how his eyes had lit up while he was making that grumble of disinterest, that he was VERY pleased with the meal that she'd just given him. So with her own eyes crinkling in amusement, she slowly pushed herself to her feet.

"Just gonna pass this one up to T-Dog," she said as she stepped back from the fire.

All she got back from that was a garbled grunt. That was because he already shoveling the grits into his mouth.

And yes . . . she gave him a good natured eye roll . . . of course he was using his fingers for a scoop.

So with him clearly having no interest in the spoon, she leaned over to snatch it back for T-Dog to use. She'd forgotten to bring him out a spoon anyway, so this worked out well enough for both of them.

And not wanting to wake anyone else up yet . . . it would be very bad if anyone saw her up having breakfast alone with Daryl and it got back to Ed . . . she was careful to be extra quiet on her walk back over to the camper.

It was about fifteen paces away.

When she got there, it was clear that T-Dog had been watching for her. Because he was already lying down on his belly and leaning over to snag the plate up, before she'd even put her arm out.

"Damn woman," he gave the food a deep sniff as he pulled it up to the roof, "remind me to do you a solid, 'cuz this is way better than the lumpy oatmeal we've been getting."

"Thanks," she whispered back, "but remember, this was a secret meal. So," she brought her finger up to her lips, "shhhh."

When she'd brought him over the coffee, and he'd asked what she was doing up so early, she'd explained then that she had gotten up to make Daryl breakfast. And when she got a bit of a look for that, she'd hastily explained (with flushed cheeks) that it wasn't anything like that. It was just that yesterday she'd done something stupid and almost gotten herself bit for it. But that Daryl had saved her, so she just wanted to do something to say thanks, without any kind of an audience around. T-Dog seemed to get where she was going with that . . . that she'd gotten up an hour before the sun so her husband wouldn't see her talking to another man . . . so he'd given her a knowing nod, and a "mum's the word," right before he zipped his lips.

Which is exactly what he did this time too.

Though this time, he also flashed her a quick grin right before the, "mum's the word." But either way, as long as he kept her little secret, that was all that mattered.

A split second later he was gone back over the top anyway.

So she brought her arms up, and wrapped them around herself. That early in the morning, that early in the season, there was a faint bite in the air. It wasn't noticeable near the fire of course, and the sun would burn it off almost immediately, but for now being out in the pre-dawn . . . she took a deep breath . . . it was almost chilly.

That's when she turned, her gaze shifting back across their patch of land, to see Daryl sitting on the other side of the fire. Though he was still eating like it was his last meal, he was also watching her as she started to walk back. And the intensity of that gaze was a little unnerving.

Enough that she felt a bit of a blush crawling up her cheeks.

And when she finally sat back down in her chair, she saw that he was still just staring over at her, even while he was now biting off pieces of his Spam. It was difficult, but she tried to ignore his attentions to instead focus on pouring herself a cup of coffee, before she snatched out the last piece of the fried spam that she'd left in the slowly cooling pan.

It wasn't until she went to take a bite of the meat though, that Daryl finally spoke.

"If you're gonna get up this early," he mumbled around his chewing, "you need to wear a sweater or you're gonna catch a chill."

She pulled the Spam away from her mouth with a huff.

"Is that why you were staring at me? You thought I looked cold?"

He swallowed, and then shrugged.

"I didn't _think_ you look cold," he stated matter of factly, "you _were_ cold. You popped out in goosebumps three steps from the fire. And don't say I can't see goosebumps in this kind of light," he shot her look, "I got good eyes."

Feeling a faint spark of genuine humor, Carol shot him a wry smile.

"They are a very pretty color," she said, just before she tore off a piece of the spam with her fingertips, and popped it into her mouth. And she could see from the way that Daryl was looking back at her, that though he was amused by her remark, he was NOT going to reward her with a smile for it.

He looked away instead.

Still though, she saw the corner of his mouth twitching, so she still considered that a win for her. Because honestly, outside of one conversation she saw him have with Carl just before dinner . . . the boy was asking him to bring him back a little snake he could keep for a pet and Daryl was explaining how his momma, (Lori) would tan both their hides if he did that . . . she hadn't seen Daryl laugh or smile, at anyone or anything, since she'd arrived. Not that there was really anything funny left about the world, but Carol still had her Sophia. And as long as her baby girl was with her, then Carol would always have a reason to smile.

It would just be nice if everyone had something (or someone) to keep them going.

To that end though, it did seem that she and Daryl managed to have themselves a nice little breakfast. And it was clear how much he loved the spam and grits.

He actually licked his plate.

It was funny, because he started to do it, then he stopped with the plate about an inch from his mouth, like he'd just thought better of it. Or at least better than to do it in front of her. But seeing how shy he suddenly looked, just made Carol's expression soften.

"Hey," she called over quietly, with a little shrug, "if you can find anything left on there, have at it."

For a second he just looked back at her with a faintly suspicious glance . . . like he was waiting on her to add on a nasty comment or something . . . but then he let out a faint grunt.

And he went to TOWN on that thing!

Then when he was done with the plate, he licked his fingers one by one . . . she tried not to stare at that . . . and finally drained the last of the coffee out of his cup.

Once all that was done, he leaned over and reached around the fire, to neatly place the mismatched plate and cup down, one on top of the other, next to her sneaker clad foot. Carol's eyes crinkled a bit at that.

Because basically it was the campfire equivalent of putting your dishes in the sink.

Then her gaze shifted up from the dishes (and "sink"), and over to Daryl reaching down to pick up his weapons, before he slowly came to his feet.

"I'm gonna say again," murmured while slipping the bow and quiver up over his shoulder, "you didn't need to do that, but," he gave her an appreciative nod, "it was real good." He tipped his head.

"Thanks."

The "thanks" was just barely audible, but it still warmed something in Carol to hear it. Because she knew that basic pleasantries like that, weren't something he exchanged in much. Not that she thought he was rude . . . unlike some others . . . it was just that his "pleases" and "thank yous" were more likely to come out in the form of an unintelligible grunt. Today though, she'd actually gotten the full syllabled word.

It kind of made her feel special.

Then he put his hand up in sort of a two fingered half wave, and turned to start walking away from the fire.

"Be careful," she called out softly, half on impulse, half something else. And that's when his arm came back up in another wave.

Though that one was over his shoulder.

So with dawn just breaking its purpley light down over them, Daryl cut his path across the dirt and grass and over to the woods. Carol watched him go until he'd disappeared through the tree line. Then she let out a soft sigh . . . and went about cleaning up their breakfast dishes.

/*/*/*/

It was about three o'clock later that afternoon, while Carol was sitting in a lawn chair around the back half of Dale's camper, hunched over in the blazing sun trying to sew a button onto one of Dale's shirts . . . nobody had enough clothes to let any of them go to pot, and it was easier to sew in the bright light than the shade . . . when a shadow suddenly fell over her lap. And when she tipped her head back, and brought her needle hand up to her eyes, she saw Daryl standing there, backlit by that bright ball in the sky.

He was digging in his satchel.

"Got something for ya," he murmured, not even looking in her direction.

And before she could respond to that beyond an, "uh, okay" . . . they were clearly skipping the more standard greetings like, "hello" . . . his eyes had snapped over to hers, and he was jerking his chin back.

"Put your hands together."

The words were clearly meant to be more an instruction than an order . . . tone made all the difference, and his tone was soft . . . so without a word on her part, she brought her arm down, slipped the needle through the thin fabric so she wouldn't lose it, and cupped her palms together side by side.

That's when Daryl dropped two small bundles of herbs down into them.

"Peppermint and lemongrass," he muttered by way of explanation, while brushing his hands together to get the bits of pollen off of them, "give a sniff and you can tell which is which. But the first is good for your bellyache, and the second," he shrugged, "figured maybe you could cook with it. Speaking of, I found a pond today, got a couple ducks," he tapped his hip, and she looked down to see that yes indeed, he did have three ducks hanging off his belt . . . somehow she'd missed them.

When she looked back up, he tipped his head.

"I'll pluck the feathers and clean 'em out, and leave 'em on the stump by the fire pit." His eyebrow inched up, "you are cooking tonight, right? 'Cuz I had to wade out balls deep in some freezing cold water to pluck these bitches outta that pond, so I don't want anybody fuckin' 'em up now."

Feeling her mouth start to quiver at the balls deep story . . . the man could definitely paint a picture . . . Carol quickly nodded her head.

"Yep, I'm cooking tonight. I figured we were having squirrel so I was going to make some biscuits out of that Bisquick, but," her lip quirked up as she looked back down to the birds dangling off his hip, "duck sounds so much better." Her eyes snapped back up to his, "if you help me setup a spit I'll roast them, and then I'll use the lemongrass to flavor up the last of the rice." Her eyebrow inched up, "is that okay?"

"Hey," raised his hand up, "whatever you think works. I just don't want anybody touchin' the birds, except you, okay?"

Feeling a spark of warmth in her eyes . . . it was the first time in years she'd felt like anybody valued her contribution to anything, even if it was something simple like making a proper meal . . . Carol's expression softened.

"Okay," she whispered, "I promise I won't let anybody else touch them."

"Good," he grunted back. And then he turned, and sauntered off in that vaguely pissed off way that she found oddly attractive, even though he wasn't really doing anything except walking.

It must be something in the hips, she decided after a second of watching him.

It was just then though that she caught sight of Ed coming up around the corner of one of the cars, and God knew she didn't want him to know that she was talking to Daryl, let alone watching his HIPS while he walked away! So seeing her husband turn to start heading in her direction, Carol quickly, and discreetly, folded over the edges of Dale's shirt, so she could hide the herbs inside.

"What in the fuck are you doing over here?" Her husband was spitting out as he stomped up, "I've been looking for you for an hour!"

That was a blatant lie, Carol knew that. Because she could tell from the sleep creases on his face and that nasty, fetid breath of his blowing in her face, that he'd just woken up. Yes, since they'd arrived, he'd spent most of his time lounging in the tent while the other men went on supply runs and did whatever else they could to help fortify the camp.

Her husband was a bully, and a lazy, shiftless, fool.

And even though it had barely been three days since their arrival, she knew that everybody else already knew that too.

But still, she played along, pretending like she didn't know what he'd been up to, while _she'd_ been out and working. And somehow she got through that part of the conversation . . . the part where she explained how she'd been doing the camp's mending, right there by the camper, for the last forty plus minutes . . . without getting a smack from him. But she was still waiting for it though. Because she hadn't had one yet today.

Which meant she was overdue.

Unfortunately for Ed though, he couldn't find anything specific to criticize in her response . . . he knew one of them had to help out with the group stuff, and by his estimate, better her than him . . . so for a second there was just a pregnant silence.

But she could feel the tension building.

Finally he barked out, "well, where's Sophia?!" And she flinched at the tone, because that was exactly his intention in using that tone. He wanted her off kilter and uneasy. It meant that he was building up now.

Looking for her to give him the reason.

"She's here," she answered quietly with a gesture over her shoulder, "inside. Lori's doing math lessons with the kids."

And of course Ed rolled his eyes at that, because A) he hated Lori's guts ("that bitch doesn't know her place") and B) he thought the women continuing to give the children school lessons was a, quote, "waste of fucking time." Because of course there was no POINT in the next generation of humans responsible for helping to rebuild some semblance of civilization and society, still knowing how to read and count!

Yes, her husband was an idiot.

His idiocy though fell far down the list of Ed's worst traits. A list too long for Carol to ever be able to repeat it to anyone . . . if she would ever even dare to do such a thing.

It had suddenly become clear to her though, that Ed had just seen something in her expression that he didn't like . . . probably the Veiled Contempt hiding behind the Abject Terror . . . because he started to bring his hand up, while he hissed out, "you rolling your eyes at me, woman?" And she immediately shrunk back, preparing herself for the smack . . . but that's when she heard a voice from directly overhead.

"Hey there, Ed. Shane's been looking for you down at the quarry."

Dale.

God . . . her head tipped back and her gaze shot skyward . . . she'd completely forgotten that he was up there! And she could feel her face starting to burn bright red, at the realization that he'd just heard everything Ed had said to her.

That was so embarrassing!

But . . . she bit her lip . . . Dale had also saved her too. Because that distraction of his was just enough for Ed to lose focus.

His arm dropped down to his side.

Then he let out a grunt, and turned to stomp off in the direction of the quarry. Because after his screw-up last night with the walkers, he knew he was close to getting them evicted from the camp. And if they got evicted, he was actually going to have to get off his ass and put himself in harm's way . . . like the others did now . . . to provide food and shelter for himself and his family.

And God knew he didn't want to have to do that.

So for the second time in barely ten minutes, Carol found herself watching a man walk away. The last one she would have liked to have stayed a little longer.

This one couldn't have been gone soon enough.

Not to mention, there was no elegance in this one's gait. Daryl moved like a panther . . . Ed moved more like a gorilla.

One who could barely keep his knuckles off the ground.

And even though Carol knew that smack was still coming later . . . he'd find a reason, even if she didn't give him one . . . she still felt a wave of relief that at least he was gone for now.

Then once again she heard words come floating down from over her head.

"You know, lemongrass in the rice sounds good."

And her eyes shot back up to see Dale giving her a little smile. Then he winked . . . and disappeared over the top.

For a moment she just stared up into that empty space and on into the blue sky. Then her eyes crinkled a bit, and she looked back down to the thin white shirt in her lap. Slowly, she unfolded the edges, and pulled out the herbs that Daryl had brought her back from the woods.

She gently pulled the two bundles apart.

The lemongrass, okay, that probably was just something he figured she could use for cooking. But the peppermint . . . she slowly brought the smaller bundle up to her nose . . . he brought that one back just for her. To help with the bellyache, he'd said. Her expression softened.

That was probably the sweetest thing anybody had done for her years.

And even though she'd been hearing Andrea from day one, complaining about "the Dixon brothers," by Carol's own observations so far, that bad reputation really just came mostly from Merle's behavior. Because yes, the older brother was openly, (and proudly), racist, sexist, crude and disgusting.

Basically he was Ed, if Ed had a brain, some skills, and a halfway decent work ethic.

But Daryl on the other hand . . . Carol bit her lip . . . he was quiet, and capable, and though his overall temperament might be a little gruff (and that did take some getting used to), he'd actually been very kind to her. And really, next to Lori, he was the one who had done the most to make her feel welcome, and a part of their group.

Basically he was almost the complete opposite of everything that Andrea had been muttering about him behind his back.

Truth be told though, not that she had anyone to speak the truth to, Carol was sort of the opinion that Andrea was just a little bit stuck up. And with Daryl clearly not having the education or advantages that she'd had, Andrea had just immediately dismissed him as an ignorant redneck.

And that was about as deep as she'd looked.

It was easy though, to peg people as one thing, when they were really all just so much more complicated than that. So Carol was (mostly) trying to keep an open mind about all these new folks.

Even Merle.

Because God willing, these people would let her and her family stay in this camp with them indefinitely. Which was why she was very much hoping to be able to at least get along with everyone. And if she was lucky, maybe she could find a few friends here too. And if she was _really_ lucky . . . she took a deep inhale of the peppermint . . . maybe she could find something she'd been missing for a lot of years now.

Just someone to be nice to her.

So for a few seconds she sat there with her eyes closed, and the scent of the peppermint washing over her olfactory senses. But then finally she brought the little bundle away from her face, and tucked it down into her pocket instead. That's when she let out a slow breath . . . and blinked away the faint bit of moisture in her eyes. Then she cleared her throat.

And she went back to Dale's button.

* * *

 _A/N 2: Fair warning, long note here because I was in kind of a rambling/ranty mood :)_

 _But yes, I am growing to love having this to work on in between the bigger story. The chapters are half the size, which means I can bang a draft out in just a few hours. And the setting and relationships are so completely different that I have to really expand out my imagination to fold all of the canon settings and character faces into my mind, separately from the other story. Which might sound like it would be a real pain, but it's actually more like everything explodes and becomes much more vivid. Sometimes the challenge helps clear your head :)_

 _I really think Daryl probably was a big Spam guy. It's cheap and it's bad for you and it's totally white trash, and it does taste DELICIOUS when it is fried up for breakfast :) Which is why I had to buy myself a can yesterday after I finished writing that part of the draft! Ha, ha!_

 _And also here I think canon Daryl pre-Merle getting left behind, would have been less impulsive and angry. Right now it's just him living their day to day and the basic monotony to it. We met him in basically panic/fury mode about his last family member being left for dead, which is nobody's best day. So I think at this stage he would have just been mostly quiet, and keeping to himself. Then he starts making this connection with Carol._

 _So to Merle, the thing I couldn't verify to my satisfaction, was whether or not he also carried a bow. I feel like he would have had one too because he clearly was as much a woods guy as Daryl. But we never saw him living in the group, we only saw him in the city, and then all the stuff that happened later. So I don't think we really know what he distinctly owned besides the bike and a bag of pills. But for purposes here (and in my other story) I'm also making him a bow and bolts guy. For this tiny bit of "screen time" anyway :)_

 _FYI, I am not an Andrea 'hater', and I did grow to like her moving later through season 2, but there was a lot about her that did rub me the wrong way up until that point. Like clearly, she was a snob with her little remark about Daryl knowing big words. Anybody you hear do that, it's just, 'oh screw you, lady.' And then later with her blaming Dale for saving her life, that was just annoying and stupid. He wasn't being a dick, he was just trying to get her not to make an irreversible, grief driven, decision. But she lays this whole "F you, you're not my dad,' guilt trip on him. Okay, A) you wouldn't have had his death on your conscience. You both would have been dead. The End! That's like the ONE good thing about being dead, you don't have to feel badly about shit anymore. Which was sort of the whole point in her WANTING to kill herself, so *hands thrown in the air*! And then B) it's the apocalypse, if you can't find a quick way to still off yourself outside of the one stupid handgun that's been taken away from you, you're just not trying! So yes, I did have some issues with her irrational behavior, which I blame pretty much entirely on the all male writing staff :) Because odds are, and I'm not joking here, but if you are a female and notice that a new female character is being completely irrational or a total bitch (like the slant given to Lori), odds are if you check the credits, that's an all penis writing room! It usually takes them more time (and a good actress' portrayal) to see us as 'people' and not their stereotype of 'women.' I don't know why that continues, but if you look for it, you'll see it. It's frustrating. But TWD did have some great casting and without those actresses, those female characters would not have evolved into the layered, complicated, badasses they became. So, go, ladies! It takes a village :)_

 _But anyway, if these early chapters come off with the anti-Andrea slant it is partly that, but also because we're seeing her from Daryl's POV, and also Carol having her sympathies more aligned with him, so she would also be less neutral in her thoughts, if not her words._

 _Lastly for "plot" here, pulling two threads from early canon, 1) that Andrea and Daryl CLEARLY did not care for one another in the beginning, through to her later (accidentally) shooting him in the head :) and then 2) that Carol is always, through the years, the one making sure that Daryl eats. So we can figure one of their earliest ways of bonding could have been her getting up to make him breakfast before he went off hunting, and then him dropping off his 'finds' at the end of the day. I thought that was actually a fairly logical way for them to have gotten used to each other before Ed was killed and she was free to then openly 'associate,' with anyone she wanted to. But she and Daryl will be 'associating' with one another more freely, even before that ;)_

 _So, now that I've rambled as much in my notes here, as I did in the chapter itself :) you can see that we have a bigger viewing picture now on where this story will be going, and the subtext I'm building into the Caryl relationship. And for those of you that got all the way down to this last sentence, I hope you folks are enjoying yourselves :)_


	3. The Beating Heart

**Author's Note** : So much for 'slow' updates :) And this was NOT supposed to be the next posting. But as I explained over on Tumblr, life has been stressful and this chapter came to me much easier than the next "This Is Now." That draft is still moving, just at a slower pace. And FYI, if you have interest in knowing about updates, or delays on my stories, I usually put something up on Tumblr. Even if you don't have an account, I always tag everything so if you just google "sienna27 Tumblr", then on my page put "caryl fanfiction" into the search bar on the side, it'll pull up anything relevant to story posts.

Also, you'll see that bug of mine which makes every chapter of "Now" longer than a presidential stump speech, is beginning to afflict us here. But I do have a clear, focused, line of sight on how far this story goes, so longer chapters will get us there faster!

Anyway, to this, I decided to add the 'day tracker since they came in contact' in on this story too, just to keep a pulse point. Now picking up the next evening after Daryl's duck hunt.

* * *

 _Day 4_

 **The Beating Heart**

Carol leaned over to pick up the still slightly warm skillet, from where it was resting next to the fire pit. Then she picked up a metal spatula too.

She started running the second item around inside the first.

Dinner had finished up about ten minutes earlier, and since then, Lori, Jacqui, and Miranda had gathered up all of the children and all of the dirty dishes, and had gone down to the quarry to do the washing up. That had left Carol alone, sitting a few feet away from the fire, to scrape out and polish up the cast iron. Because everybody knew you don't wash cast iron with water.

Not unless you wanted it to rust up.

And this dinner they'd just had, was the one the day after their fabulous duck dinner. Tonight's meal though, that hadn't been half bad either. A number of the men had gone on a food raid earlier that day, and among other things, they'd found two cans of Tyson's white meat, chopped chicken, and a half dozen boxes of those Hamburger Helper mixes. All the ones that they'd brought back were technically for tuna, but the ingredients in them worked just fine with poultry too. So using one can of the white meat, and two boxes of the Alfredo Helper, Carol had mixed them all up a nice big skillet meal. It was the second night in a row that dinner actually got raves.

From everyone except Ed of course.

He'd been angry that she'd thrown in a can of peas for a vegetable. There was no opinion from Daryl either . . . but that was because he hadn't come to dinner. Which _was_ , very strange. Because they had so little to eat, that people didn't skip meals without good reason. In fact, since she'd been there, Carol hadn't seen anybody skip a meal for _any_ reason.

Even the night Andrea cooked.

And it wasn't like Daryl was still out hunting or anything. In fact that day, he'd only gone out to the woods from about five-thirty that morning until maybe ten. That was just about the time when he'd broken back through the trees, because he'd needed to go on the food raid with the others. There was a Kroger's that T-Dog had remembered was a few towns over, going east. He'd estimated that it was a good fifteen, twenty miles from camp, so even though they already had four men going, they'd wanted an extra man in case they got held up, or ran into trouble. That extra man had been Daryl.

It had been his turn.

And the raid, as far as Carol knew, seemed to have gone pretty well. Nobody had gotten bit, or injured, that was the main thing. And they'd also come back with a decent haul. Not too much of anything in particular, but lots of little scraps of different things. Like, besides the Helper mixes and the canned chicken, other notable items included, (but were not completely limited to) a jar of beef bouillon cubes, a large bag of dried pinto beans (the Morales family was tickled pink about those, Miranda said that with the garlic powder they already had, she could make refried ones with them), a small box of store brand Velveeta (Carol couldn't wait to try it over squirrel), two jars of sweet and sour pickles, one box of tampons (gold star find, though one box wasn't nearly enough with six women in the group of child bearing age), a pair of white shoe laces (Amy had needed them for her sneakers), and a single package of Dora the Explorer band-aids, to add into their meager first aid supplies. There were a few other things too, but that was most of the good stuff. And Carol had even found two boxes of strawberry Jello tucked down into the bottom of one of the duffel bags the guys had used for transporting their haul. So she and Lori were going to try and mix it up tomorrow, if they could just find a way to make it set.

Their hope was to actually have dessert with dinner tomorrow night.

And for all that Kroger treasure, the men had been gone about six hours. Now _that_ had been pretty nerve wracking, just waiting for them all that time, and worrying that something bad might've happened. Because they'd thought they could do the whole run in about four hours and be back by three at the latest. But when they'd finally returned, while they were emptying out the car, Shane said they'd run into pile-up after pile-up, and had had to keep cutting around side streets and back roads. In the end it had taken them three hours to go twenty miles in a not so straight line.

Though they had stopped twice along the way.

Once to check out a gas station that wasn't burned to the ground . . . a novelty find that close to the city, but the pumps were still dry and the shelves were still bare . . . and then once again, for a liquor store. Not for the liquor, that was all long gone off the shelves anyway . . . at least according to Glen . . . but because when they were coming up on it, Daryl had reminded them that there was usually a mixer and snack section in most of those places. And again, according to Glen, he'd been right. Because hidden in the back storage room, they did find two bottles of lime seltzer, some non-alcoholic strawberry margarita mix (which the guys had figured, rightly so, could just be made into a kool aid) and an unopened box full of _bags_ , of snack size Cool Ranch Doritos. The kids had been thrilled to see those.

Hell, everybody had been thrilled to see those.

And there had been just enough of those little blue bags in that big brown box, that everybody got one for themselves, and then they had two small bags left over. It was agreed, by majority vote over dinner, that they'd hold onto them for now in the general food reserves.

They'd save them for a day when maybe people needed a little cheering up.

That day would probably come along in very short order. Though on that _particular_ day (moving well into evening now), the only one that Carol sensed could use some cheering up, was Daryl. Though she wasn't quite sure what was wrong with him yet. But that afternoon around four-thirty, before she'd even realized that the men were back, suddenly he'd just walked up to where she was sitting down by the quarry with Sophia. Carol had been sorting out the dirty clothes.

Sophia had been doodling in the dirt with a stick.

Daryl hadn't said a word to either of them. Even when Carol let out a happy, and relieved, "oh, you're back!" he'd had no response to that beyond stopping short, and turning to dig into that leather satchel he always kept on his shoulder when he was out hunting. What he'd pulled out then though weren't berries or wild mushrooms, but an unopened package of blue pens, and a small stack of glossy covered, activity booklets. Search-A-Words, Mazes, and Mad Libs were all what had caught Carol's eye as they fluttered to the ground.

He'd dropped them right by her feet with the pack of Bics on top of them.

Then he'd just walked off without a word. And while Sophia was excitedly pouncing on the book of mazes, Carol's confused gaze had tracked Daryl as he'd walked away. It hadn't taken long though, before she'd lost him.

He'd disappeared into the trees.

But his behavior had been so odd, that she'd immediately started to worry about him. Because even if he hadn't wanted to talk to her in front of Sophia . . . they never talked in front of anyone . . . he still could have given her a 'grunt' of acknowledgement. Or even just made EYE contact with her! It had been clear though, that he'd been very deliberate in keeping his eyes down, and his mouth shut. And it wasn't that he'd seemed angry . . . because she could _definitely_ read angry . . . but more that he'd seemed sad.

But she didn't know why.

It wasn't like she was in any position to be making 'inquiries' around camp though . . . at least not without setting some tongues wagging at her interest . . . to find out what could've happened to him while they were out on a run, which, by all standards that mattered, seemed to have been very successful. So for the last three hours Carol had been forced to just wait until the gossip came to her.

Dinner conversation hadn't been very illuminating though.

All the group really talked about was whether or not it was going to rain, how many cords of firewood they needed to cut, and how bad the mosquitoes were. It was kind of like conversation from the old world.

Back when talk like that could fill the hours.

These days more important things were usually on tap for group discussion, so just the fact that Shane and the other men present from the raid . . . Glen, T-Dog, and Jim . . . all kept steering things to such mundane topics, had made Carol a little suspicious that something really bad _had_ happened when they were out.

Something that nobody wanted to talk about.

Once, about halfway through the meal, Carol had tried to catch's Lori's eye across the fire . . . but the other woman had just looked down. Which made Carol think that she might've already heard (from Shane) exactly what had gone on out there during those six hours. And on any other topic, Carol might have felt comfortable poking around to see what Lori knew, but again, she didn't want anybody thinking that she had any special interest in Daryl's general well-being. That would get back to Ed before she could say, "split lip." Not that she thought Lori would ever 'rat' her out, if anything she'd shown herself to kind of protective of her and Sophia when it came to Ed, but the camp was just too small.

It was very hard to keep secrets.

Like Carol had figured out that Shane and Lori were sleeping together on Day Two. Of course on Day _One_ , when they'd met, she'd mistakenly assumed that they were a married couple and that Carl was their son. But then she'd quickly found out that Lori was a recent widow of a sheriff's deputy named Rick, and that Shane had been his work partner. It was the next day that Carol had spotted the two of them sneaking out of a tent, with rumpled clothes and mussed up hair, in the middle of the afternoon.

It was obvious what they'd been up to.

Not that she was judging, people did what they had to, to get through this horror show they called the Apocalypse. And whether the two of them had been sleeping together before Lori's husband died, well, Carol didn't care about that either. She didn't really care about anyone's sins from their past lives. As initial survivors of first the infection, and then the walkers, all of them had already been sent off to the Fifth Circle of Hell.

So what more could any one of them atone for?

Basically though, as Carol started rubbing a clean dish rag around the inside of the skillet, her main point (before her brain had gotten off topic) was that gossip was an easy trade around that camp. So she was hoping to pick up the story she was looking for, pretty quickly. And even though she'd only been there a few days, she'd already found that if she was just quiet (her natural state), and minded her business (Ed wouldn't have it any other way), people would completely forget that she was sitting there. That's when they'd start whispering about things that weren't generally her concern at all. Except for today. Because she was sure that today's story was going to include Daryl. And his well being concerned her very much.

More almost than she wanted to admit to herself.

It was just then that Morales and Glen came over to the fire pit, to get a cup of coffee. And while Morales was turning over the cups, and Glen was picking up the pot, that's when Carol finally heard the murmuring that she'd been waiting for. It was clear that she'd already missed a couple of sentences before they'd come up, because just now Glen was telling the older man how when they were in the grocery store, Daryl had been forced to shoot a little kid.

And even though she was trying to play invisible, Carol's head had snapped up in horror at that news. Fortunately though, the guys didn't notice because Morales was already sputtering back, "whoa man, you mean a live kid or a _walker_ kid?"

Which was the EXACT question on Carol's mind too!

So then Glen started hastily explaining that it was a walker kid. One that had snuck up on them while he and Daryl were stooped down, digging around, trying to get the cans of chicken out from under the broken shelves. And the reason that they hadn't seen him coming . . . even though Shane was keeping an eye out in the aisle . . . was because the kid was so small, barely old enough to walk, that they didn't even register him being there, until he was right up on top of Daryl. And little or not, he was still big enough to have teeth, and those teeth had been out. And he'd been too close for anyone to do anything about that, but just put him down.

So Daryl had shot him in the head.

And then he'd kicked the ever living shit out of the metal shelving. It had made a hell of a racket, enough to make Jim and T-Dog come running, but Glen said Shane just let it go. Because it was such a bad scene, none of them blamed Daryl for being so upset.

Really better him than them, was the thought.

It was a thought that made Carol kind of angry, that they would be happier that he had to live with that than they did. And thinking about him having to do such a terrible thing, and then just go on with his day, Carol could feel her eyes starting to water. But then Morales asked the last question.

" _How old do you think the kid was?"_

That was the one she really didn't want to hear the answer to, but she was too close to tune it out. And when Glen whispered back, "two and a half, maybe three, he barely came up to Daryl's knee," that's when Carol felt one of those tears spill over and run down her cheek.

She quickly scrubbed it away.

Then she put her head down and went back to cleaning her pot. But all the while her heart was breaking. Not only for that poor baby, but for poor Daryl who had to put it down.

No wonder he'd seemed so sad.

And she just hated the idea of him being off dealing with that all alone. Because she knew his brother was no help there, right now he was over in front of Jim's tent playing cards. They were betting sunflower seeds, a box of mini-raisins, and their brand new bags of Cool Ranch Doritos.

Winner take all.

And Merle was being his usual loud and obnoxious self over there, clearly showing no interest in anything but getting a winning hand at post apocalyptic poker.

So once Glen and Morales had wandered off with their coffees, and Carol had finished polishing up the skillet, she walked over and laid it down, upside down, on the far edge of the fire pit. Then she hopped up, brushed her hands off, and slowly walked over to the camper. On her way she had to wave to Andrea and Dale who were up on the roof, keeping the watch.

"Forgot something inside," she called up softly, more to him than her, because really it was his trailer not hers.

She and Amy were just living in it.

But Dale just gave Carol a little smile, and a "mi camper, es su camper," that did make her eyes crinkle a bit. Though she hadn't known him long, Dale did seem to be a genuinely kind, easy-going, good humored, man. It would make her sad if something happened to him. Not that she wanted anything to happen to anyone in the camp . . . except Ed of course.

God how she wished he would die.

Anyway though, that was an old wish, and she was on to new things. So once she was inside the trailer, she gave another wave to Amy who was down in back, laying on the bed and reading a trashy, beach chair, type romance.

It was one of their few group books.

Then she went over to the refrigerator . . . which they basically just used for general food storage because it didn't keep anything cold . . . and opened the door.

There inside, tucked down on the bottom shelf, was the last of the chicken 'Helper' alfredo. It was the plate she'd saved for Daryl. It hadn't been easy either, not with her eagle eyed psychopathic husband eyeballing her as she walked around doling out everyone's portions. But once he had his mouth full, and she'd filled the last plate of everyone sitting around, she'd tucked Daryl's plate down behind the stump. Then a few minutes later she'd feigned forgetting to get herself a cup from inside the trailer, and she'd scooped up that plate on her way by.

She was pretty sure nobody saw her.

And with the hopes of nobody seeing her again, after she'd pulled the food out, she placed a clean dish towel over the top of it . . . both to keep the bugs off, and to hide what she was carrying . . . and slipped back out the door.

Fortunately for her, Shane had mentioned after dinner wood chopping/gathering, chores, so Ed was already off and hiding in the tent to avoid having to do any hard labor. Which meant that she didn't need to worry about him grabbing her up. So with a few precious twilight minutes to herself . . . an absolute rarity . . . Carol went off in search of the man that she really shouldn't be allowing herself to become so taken with. But taken she was.

And for reasons that she couldn't even really explain to herself.

Part of it maybe was how he had saved her . . . like it was maybe some kind of 'hero worship' nonsense . . . but she didn't really think that was it at all. Yes, that _was_ why she'd gotten up to make him a special breakfast, in gratitude, but that _wasn't_ why she'd been so happy to see him when he'd walked up to the fire yesterday morning. There was something else there. Something that had been built on when he'd come back with the peppermint leaves for her. And then again in how he'd been so insistent last night that she was the only one who could be trusted to make his special duck dinner. And God how he'd RAVED about how she well she cooked those ducks! Her cheeks had actually been burning red, by the time he was done. But she'd been so happy too. It was the first time in years anyone had sung her praises that way.

And she'd felt proud when he did.

Of course Ed hadn't cared for it. Even though the food was delicious (if she did say so herself) he'd tried to make some crack about, "well one meal out of a hundred, she was bound to finally get one right." But then everybody else had spoken up and piled on with how flavorful the rice was (she had used the lemongrass) and how crisp the ducks. She'd even boiled down some of those berries Daryl kept finding, and mixed them up with a bit of water and sugar to make a glaze. Everybody had loved that too. And all that praise had drowned out Ed's nasty comments. Of course later in the tent, when they were alone, he'd made of point of telling her how pathetic she was, being proud of herself for cooking a meal when that was one of only the two things women were good for.

And that she sucked at both of them anyway.

In days past, verbal abuse like that definitely would've brought her down to her usual 'severely depressed' state. But not last night. Yes, she'd _pretended_ to be 'cowed' by his remarks, but on the inside she was still back in the moment, when Daryl had given her a private little wink across the fire, while he'd been sucking the glaze off his fingertips. Remembering that wink had been enough to keep her spirits up through every vile thing Ed had spit at her. And for the first time in too many years to count, she'd fallen asleep almost happy.

Almost.

Which was why that morning, she'd decided to get up again to see Daryl before he left for his hunt. That time she didn't have all the fancy stuff to make a meal . . . she still needed to hoard that spam for possible eviction . . . but she could make him his coffee. He'd liked how she made the coffee.

He'd told her that.

And little comments like that meant so much. So basically, it just made her happy to be around somebody who made her feel good about herself. Really, maybe that _was_ what drew her to him.

But she still knew that wasn't all of it.

Either way, when he came out of his tent that morning, he hadn't seemed surprised to see her sitting out again. He just came over and sat down in the chair next to her. Neither of them said anything while she poured his coffee. And when she'd passed him the cup, again, just like the day before, he let his index finger brush along her skin. That time it wasn't just her thumb . . . it was the curve of her wrist. It was just for a bare second, but long enough for her to know that the touch had been deliberate.

At least she was almost sure it had been.

It was strange, almost ridiculous though, the idea that a man who looked like Daryl, would ever be interested in a woman who looked like her. All she could think was that maybe it was just a matter of circumstance. There were only X number of women in the camp, and most of them kept their distance from him (in large part) because of Merle. So maybe Daryl just missed the same thing that she did.

Having somebody of the opposite sex be nice to him.

Whatever it was though, a genuine attraction, a harmless flirtation or just a simple olive branch of friendship, she'd take it. Any one of those in particular, or all of the above.

She just wanted to keep spending time with him.

Which was why, as she cut out from behind Merle's bike, to find Daryl sitting over on the far edge of the camp, all by himself, she felt a spark of warmth in her chest. And that was even though she'd come out there searching for him, because she knew that he'd had a terrible day.

That didn't diminish though how pleased she was to see him there.

And as she walked up to where he was sitting, cross legged in the grass, polishing up his arrowheads with a scrap of torn brown flannel, she knew it was entirely possible he was going to send her away. She was prepared for that.

She was still going to leave him his dinner though.

And at first, he didn't even acknowledge that she was standing there. He just kept rubbing at a smudge on the metal tip he was holding. And though that didn't strike Carol as a project requiring any actual concentration or mental acuity on his part, she was still hesitant to interrupt him. Finally though, he let out on a faint grunt of, "if you're gonna sit, sit."

That was all he said, and he didn't even look at her when he said it. But Carol was already getting pretty good at reading his moods, and knowing when his tone was being directed at a person, or if that was just his tone in general.

That was the general.

So she slowly lowered herself to the grass, and crossed her legs the way he had. They were sitting about three inches away from each other.

She placed the plate down in front of his feet.

"Saved you some dinner," she whispered.

"Ain't hungry," he murmured back with another swipe of that cloth, "that's why I skipped."

Some people might have taken from that response, that their presence was unwelcome there . . . but not Carol. Because she could hear the pain in Daryl's voice when he spoke. And though she would have very much liked to have reached over and taken his hand then, she would never be so forward.

Even if they were almost completely hidden where they were.

So instead she just pushed the plate a few inches to the side, and let her hands rest on her knees.

"Well, it's there if you're hungry later," she whispered. And let it go at that.

Because she wasn't going to push.

Then she reached over to pluck up a piece of the withered grass. And while Daryl went back to his arrows, she started peeling the blade apart. And when that one was in pieces, she plucked out another.

Then another.

It wasn't until the little shreds started to build up into a notable pile in her lap, that she heard her companion let out a soft sigh. Then he put down the arrow he was holding . . . and reached over to pick up the plate.

"What is it?" He asked, while pulling back the cloth. She cleared her throat.

"Uh, the Alfredo Helper mixed with a can of peas, and a can of the chicken." She paused for a second before adding softly, "most people seemed to like it."

"Hmm," he murmured back, as he tipped his head back and dropped a bite into his mouth. And as he began to chew, he gave a slow nod.

"S'good," then he shot her a sharp look, "who said it wasn't? _Ed_?"

The way he spit out her husband's name, it sounded like a curse word. And that made her feel a little more emboldened. Like she could answer the question honestly.

And not lie like she usually would have.

"Yeah," she swallowed, "he kept spitting the peas into the fire," her voice faded, "he doesn't like peas."

Hearing that, Daryl paused, mid-chew, to shoot her a side eye.

"If he don't like peas," he asked suspiciously, "why'd you put peas in it?"

That one she chose not to answer. Instead she just picked up another blade of grass, and started shredding it up like she had all of his little friends. Then she heard Daryl snort. And when her eyes shot up and over to his, she saw him giving her an amused smirk.

"Rebel."

She bit her lip.

"I just wanted peas," she answered softly, her gaze drifting to the pile of arrows by Daryl's side, "I haven't had them in years."

There were so many things that Ed hadn't allowed in the house . . . peas, butterscotch pudding, strawberry milk.

She'd just wanted to take one thing back.

Her tiny act of rebellion though, had already resulted in physical punishment. Because once the dinner crowd had splintered off, and before he'd gone off to hide in the tent, Ed had pushed her up against the side of the trailer, and twisted her wrist back until she was positive that he was going to break it. But then . . . just when the tears were about to start running down her face . . . they'd heard Shane's voice coming up around the cars, and Ed had abruptly let her go. That was probably the only thing that had saved her from that bone getting snapped.

Somebody else's random proximity.

And she didn't even realize that she'd started rubbing that aching wrist . . . it really had been killing her since then, and handling the cast iron hadn't done anything for it . . . until Daryl suddenly put down his plate, and reached over to touch her arm.

His thumb lightly stroked along the edges of the fresh patch of purplish skin.

"And this is what you got for wantin' peas," he murmured, making absolutely no effort to turn those words into a question.

He just knew.

It was strange how she felt then, with those callused fingers ghosting over her skin. It was like she wanted to tell him about the butterscotch pudding and the strawberry milk, and how being around so many other people for the first time in YEARS, had given her just the teeniest hint of courage again. That she'd been reminded that in what was left of the world, how there really were still other opinions out there besides Ed's.

And how wonderful it would be if she could just have one of her own again.

Those were all the thoughts running through her brain, but she couldn't make any of them come out of her mouth. That was just too many years of being so afraid to talk to anyone though. Because she was always worrying that it would somehow get back to Ed, that she'd had a thought of her own.

And then there would be hell to pay.

So instead of saying what she wanted to . . . she said nothing. Really, she couldn't even look at Daryl, because she was afraid if she did, then she'd start crying. And if that happened, well, then she'd need to go.

And the last thing she wanted to do was go.

Because he still hadn't pulled his hand away from her arm. And though it was only with the very tips of his fingers that he was touching her, just a whisper of contact really, that whisper meant that he cared she'd been hurt.

And him caring, that meant more than the touch she could barely feel.

After another few seconds though, she felt those fingers slip away. Then he reached over and picked up his plate again.

He started to eat.

So she brought her arm up . . . the one he'd been touching . . . and rubbed the back of her hand across her mouth. Then they sat there in silence until he'd finished his dinner. Once he was done though, he leaned over to put his plate back down . . . this time in front of her feet . . . before he wiped his hands on his pants.

For a second she just stared down at the swirling pattern of blue and white on the melamine dish, and then she let out a slow breath.

"Still hungry?" she asked, while turning to look over at him licking a drop of sauce off his thumb, "because you have your Doritos in the camper." And his eyes shot up to hers, as he slowly shook his head.

"I wasn't hungry now."

And him saying that to her, unexpectedly caused a flood of hot tears to fill Carol's eyes. Because it meant that he'd only eaten because she'd made that dinner, and she'd brought him that food.

He'd just eaten to make her happy.

And as she saw him move to start gathering up his arrows, she quickly blinked away those tears. And then on an impulse that she prayed was not a misguided one, she decided to bring up the thing that they hadn't discussed.

She let her hands fall back to her knees.

"I heard you had a bad day," she whispered, as her fingertips dug hard into her flesh. Because she was so afraid that she was going out of bounds here.

And she didn't want to screw anything up.

From beside her, after she finished speaking, she could see how Daryl's movements stuttered for just a moment, before he went back to sliding the bows into the quiver. He didn't say anything though. He just kept his eyes down. And she wasn't sure if that meant the topic was closed to discussion, or if he was open to letting her continue on.

After only a moment's rumination on that point, she decided to continue on. Better that than slam a door that maybe he wanted open, was her thought.

So she cleared her throat, and turned her head, watching how that strong jaw of his, kept twisting in profile.

"Did you want to talk about it?" She continued on, softly, and with more than a little trepidation. That time his eyes flashed over to hers, and she saw how that stormy blue color, had swirled over into something dark.

And dangerous.

"You're askin' if I wanna talk about how I killed a little _baby_ today?" he responded angrily.

Her eyes immediately fell to the ground as her teeth sunk into her lip.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, feeling her own emotions starting to get the best of her, "I didn't mean it like that. I just," she swallowed over the lump forming in her throat, "sometimes people talk about things, to get them off their chest. And I wanted you to know," her watery eyes snapped back to his, "I'd listen if that's something you wanted to do."

"Well Carol," he answered bitterly, "that's just great, but," his voice cracked, "I don't wanna talk about that. So you don't bring that up again, okay?"

His voice broke again at the end of that last sentence. And hearing that pain there, how deep it was, made Carol's chest ache. But he'd made his wishes clear, so she quickly shook her head as a tear spilled over and slid down her cheek.

"Okay," she sniffled, "I won't. And I'm sorry if I was out of line."

In response to that, Dary just grunted. And she didn't know if that was him accepting her apology, or dismissing it as nonsense. But then she noticed how his gaze had shifted away from hers, and off to the side. Even in profile though, and even though he was trying so hard to hide it, she could see how heartbroken he looked. And Carol felt a peculiar pull then . . . that time it was more her gut than her chest . . . so she suddenly did something on impulse.

She reached over and gently stroked the back of her fingers, along his jaw.

When his eyes snapped back to hers, they were wide and watery . . . and somewhat shocked. She was a little shocked herself. Because Daryl was the first man in thirteen years that she'd touched so intimately. And she was including her husband in that tally.

Whatever contact she had with him was always involuntary.

"Whatta you doin'?" Daryl hissed at Carol, part in confusion and part in anger . . . but he wasn't sure what was feedin' either one of those emotions. Whatever it was though, he could see the same level of confusion at least, on Carol's face as well.

Then she gave him a sad, tear filled, smile.

"I don't know," she whispered, her voice breaking, "I just thought maybe it might help."

But seeing how he was looking at her, Carol realized she'd made a really bad call there. So her hand fell, as her voice faded, "but that was probably a very stupid thing to do."

Then she swallowed and shook her head.

"I'll just leave you alone," she murmured hoarsely, while moving to push herself up off the ground. And she couldn't deny that it made her feel so sad when she realized that Daryl wasn't going to say anything to stop her.

So with what little dignity she had left . . . which had been _very_ minimal to start . . . she came to her feet, brushing the tiny bits of shredded grass from the beige cloth of her pants as she did so. Then she leaned back over to snag up the empty plate off the grass.

She started to walk away.

But she hadn't gone more than maybe three steps, when she heard from behind her.

"You gonna be up tomorrow for coffee?"

The words were faint, and came out in a slight grumble, but still they made her heart swell. Because they meant that he wasn't really angry with her.

She hadn't screwed everything up.

So she turned back, clutching the plate tightly to her chest, as she gave him a faint smile.

"I can be," she tipped her head, "if you want."

His jaw twitched at that, right before he slowly shook his head.

"Don't matter what I want," he answered gruffly, while he started to push himself to his feet, "it's your time to spend however you see fit."

Feeling a fresh pang in her chest at yet another reminder of a lost world where she had choices, and that there were men out there who wouldn't stop her from making them, Carol pushed down a sniffle.

"All right then," she took a deep breath and wiped the corner of her eye, "I would like to spend my time having coffee with you tomorrow morning."

He let out a heavy breath.

"Okay." Then he tipped his head, right before both his expression, and his tone, hardened. "Now you should get back before dickhead wonders where you are."

Carol didn't respond to that one beyond a nod. Though when Daryl moved to start picking up his bow and quiver, she let out a breath of her own. Then she turned and started on her way again.

That time he didn't call her back.

/*/*/*/

Daryl's brow wrinkled as he brought the rifle scope down, and looked across the camp with his bare eye.

It was just before ten, and he was about to get off his nightly, eight to ten, two hour shift of guard duty. Which meant that Jim should be comin' along anytime to relieve him.

But Jim wasn't what had just caught his attention.

It was movement over by Carol's tent. A second ago she'd just stepped out of the flap, hunched over, in her nightgown, and had walked over to cut around over behind the cars.

That's when he'd lost her through the scope.

Whatever had driven her out there though, had him worried. It wasn't just that she was out so late when pretty much everybody was already sound asleep . . . it was her bein' hunched over.

And him wondering what the hell her husband her done to her now.

That was a mystery though, that had to hold until he could get off the damn roof. Mostly he didn't mind guard duty . . . it was the one place in the world he didn't have to worry about a walker sneakin' up on him . . . but now all he wanted to do was get his boots back on the ground.

'Cuz he wanted to know what was wrong with Carol.

So when he finally saw Jim stretchin' and yawnin' as he walked up to the camper, Daryl was already up out of that sandchair, and on his feet, before that man had even climbed the ladder.

Handoff took about three seconds . . . it was just a matter of passin' over Dale's Remington . . . and then Daryl was scooping up his bow and flashlight, and had started climbin' down the ladder Jim had just climbed up.

Ten seconds after that, he was cuttin' around the fire pit, and heading over to where he'd last seen Carol. And he knew if she'd gone any farther without him seeing, it woulda had to have been in a combat crawl.

Which did not really seem likely.

Still though, it took him a minute until he came up on where he expected she'd be . . . down behind his truck. And as he was coming up on the front of it, not wantin' to scare the living daylights out of her, he did whisper her name before he got any closer.

When he did that, he heard a soft, "here," so he hurried around the back end of the Ford and over to where she was sitting in the dewy grass. Her head was down and her arm was pressed against her stomach. There was barely enough moonlight though to really make out her face, so as he was walkin' up on her, Daryl slipped his flashlight out of his pocket. He clicked it on, but while makin' sure to keep the beam down low so as not to attract any unwanted attention.

From the livin' or otherwise.

Then he stooped down in front of her.

"Whaddya doin' out there?" He asked quietly, "you sick?"

And he saw her shaking her head, right before she slowly tipped it back to catch his eyes.

"No, I uh," she winced, "I couldn't sleep, is all."

His eyebrow inched up.

"Really? That's all? So you bein' out here don't have nothin' to do with why you're wincing and holding your stomach like that?"

For a second she just stared up at him, before she slowly shook her head.

"It's not my stomach," she whispered, "it's just my wrist's aching something horrible. And I couldn't keep laying there with it throbbing that way." Then she bit her lip. "Back home," she tipped her head with some embarrassment, "stuff like this, I'd always get up and go pace downstairs." Her voice started to thicken, "but we don't have a downstairs anymore."

"No," Daryl answered with a sigh, "no downstairs," his voice faded, "but we still have stuff like this." Then he took a breath, put the flashlight on the ground, and put his hand out.

"Can I see?"

That was a request he made sure to use with a very soft tone. Because he knew what it was like to be up pacin' around with a busted arm that'd been handed out by a 'loved one.'

And nobody needed anybody in their face about that shit.

Still, he could see Carol take a breath, before she slowly pulled her forearm away from her stomach.

His brow immediately darkened when he saw the new shades of colors on her inner wrist. The bruising was much worse than it had been earlier.

Now that patch of skin was almost completely black.

"Well," his jaw twisted, "what it needs for sure is ice, but," his lips pressed together, "ice is back there with the downstairs, so," his eyes snapped back to hers, "next best, we gotta tape it. It'll take down some of the pressure, and that'll help with the pain."

"But," Carol shook her head, "we don't have any of that kind of tape in the kit. Or even really anything to use as a wrapping."

Really, their whole med kit at the moment consisted of three packs of band aids (that included the new Dora ones), one tube of Neosporin, a pair of tweezers, a jumbo sized bottle of hand sanitizer, and last but not least, a half bottle of chewable baby aspirin. They'd been Dale's. He'd been taking them for good heart health, back in the days when suddenly dropping dead of a massive coronary, was something to fear, instead of something to embrace. So bottom line, it was a great medical kit if anybody got a splinter.

Anything else though . . . Carol sucked in another slow, pain filled, breath . . . a person was pretty much screwed.

Though she could see how Daryl was chewing on his lip as he stared down at her wrist, that he was trying to come up with some other idea.

Finally he nodded.

"We can use one of my t-shirts. Rip it up for strips."

Apparently seeing the look she gave him for that, he rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, I know," he muttered, "but if anybody asks say you got it outta the rag bin. I know you ladies got one of those under the sink. And if I'm around I'll just add that I'd snagged it good on an arrow tip, and that's that. So," he reached over to slip his hand under her other arm, "come on."

Then he was pulling her up off the ground. For just a second she was close enough to get a hint of nicotine, and a musky smell from his skin. But before she could take more than a half breath . . . he'd let her go.

Then she was pulling her arm back to her chest, and he was reaching down to scoop up his flashlight from the dew dampened grass.

"All right," he started whispering while he walked them along, "you go wait over at the fire pit, while I get the shirt.

Technically it woulda been more private (in regards to Ed) to just get her taped up right where they were, but at present she was in the blind spot for the camper roof. So he didn't wanna leave her out there by herself, in the dark, anymore than need be. Not with nobody able to watch her back.

She'd be walker bait.

But after he'd made sure she was headin' over to the pit, he continued on to his tent to grab up one of his t-shirts. Not that he had any to spare really, given he only had the two in total. And both were gettin' threadbare being washed up in that quarry.

It was still better than nothin' though.

The unfortunate thing (for him) was how when he got inside the tent, Merle was still awake, sittin' up Indian style, with a small lantern out, and the pieces of his Browning all spread out on his blanket. And of course when Daryl began diggin' in his bag, his brother immediately started in with a singsong, "what are you doin' there little brother?" And a, "none of ya damn business," didn't do much to make that fool mind his damn business. 'Cuz the second Daryl pulled the t-shirt out, Daryl snatched it outta his fingers. And the second Daryl tried to snatch it _back_ , Merle tried to put him in a headlock.

Like he had time for that SHIT!

So Daryl elbowed him in the jaw, and grabbed his shirt back. Then as he was crawling outta the tent, he bit out over his shoulder, "you keep your fuckin' hands off me, asshole."

All he heard when he was walkin' away, was the sound of Merle laughing.

And once he got back to the fire . . . which was really more just charcoal bits at that time a night . . . he made quick work of tearing that thin white cloth up into strips so he could get Carol's wrist and forearm bound up. But then came the not fun part.

Hurtin' her.

Because there was no way to do what needed to be done, to get her wrapped up tight, without causing more pain. She was a trooper though. After he'd stirred up the coals a bit to catch a small spark, he just told her to stare at that tiny flame, and he'd go quick as he could. So that's what she did, kept her eyes locked down on that spot of dancin' heat and light, while she kept her teeth chomped down firmly on her lip.

Still, he could see the tears in her eyes.

They made him feel kinda sick. 'Cuz again, he was the one doing the hurtin'. Yeah, that motherfucker she was married to had done the damage . . . but he was the one there now.

Doin' cleanup.

And he wished he coulda thought of somethin' comforting to say, but that wasn't really his thing. Words, that is. Though once he got the last knot in that shirt bandage tied off, he patted her knee (which was covered over by the long white nightgown) and told her to hold on one sec. Then he ran over to the camper, and movin' quiet as a church mouse, he broke inside . . . managed not to wake anybody up in the process . . . and snuck out the med kit.

Once he was a few feet clear of the door again, he popped it open and pulled out those baby aspirins he knew were in there. And he _knew_ that, 'cuz Jacqui'd had to take one the week before when the cast iron fell off the counter and down on her foot.

That was a scream that had made people come runnin'.

And Daryl had wished he coulda given her one of the pills outta Merle's magic bag, but when he'd asked his brother for one, Merle had said, well, Merle had said something that was to be expected. Short version, the answer had been vulgar and very much related to "intelligence" and "color of skin." So yeah, that's how a lady who'd had thirty pounds of cast iron dropped down on her toes, got to try and heal that pain over with eighty milligrams of cheap ass, store brand, baby aspirin.

She'd cried basically for the whole afternoon.

So Daryl was very much grateful that at least Carol's pain wasn't so bad as that had been, 'cuz he did have a feelin' he might not of taken the previous "fuck you, man," for a final answer, if he'd had to ask Merle for a pill for the lady with the pretty blue eyes.

And after he'd tucked the kit away inside again, he could see now how those eyes were watchin' him as he walked back down from the camper to the small fire.

"Here," he held out the small pink pill, "it's the chewin' kind. Then if you're feeling better," he shrugged, "maybe you can try to get some sleep."

"Right," Carol answered with a slow nod as she slipped the pill from his fingertips, into her own, "sleep." Then she looked down at the tiny disc for a second, before she looked back up at him with a sad smile.

"Thanks for gettin' this. I'd already decided I was going to suck it up, but," she let out a soft sigh, "if it's already out of the bottle, no need to put it back all germy."

And with that, she popped it into her mouth, and started chewing up the tart little circle.

But Daryl, apparently noticing from her expression just how tart it was, asked drily, "taste good?" And her eyes crinkled a bit before she huffed, "orange flavored. And I know I haven't had an orange in a long time but," she started sucking the grit off her tongue, "I'm fairly certain they didn't taste like this."

"Yeah," Daryl let out a faint grunt as he leaned over a bit to roll a knot out of his shoulder . . . he'd gotten kinda tensed up working on Carol's bandages, "I do miss orange juice. But," he rolled his eyes, "I know that's pretty much gone forever unless Merle wants to uproot and head on down to someplace they still got the fresh stuff, like Florida. Though," he tipped his head, "now that AC's gone the way of the rest of the world, that whole place has gotta be hot as the devil's balls. So yeah," he cracked his neck, "don't see Disney on the travel list."

The idea of going anywhere else besides Georgia, hadn't really much occurred to him yet. But that was 'cuz Georgia was home.

And it was the only part of home they had left.

"Oh God," Carol's eyes widened as a memory unexpectedly came back to her, "Disney. Remember how the company didn't want to close the park? They said it would cost them billions, and that they'd be okay with screeners taking temperatures at the gates. That was the last thing I saw about Orlando before everything tipped. But can you imagine the horror show in there now with all those walkers still dressed in those costumes?" She shuddered. "God, I think that would be even creepier than just a regular one."

Daryl's brow wrinkled.

"Okay, well," he shook his head, "now I'm just picturin' walkers in Mickey Mouse ears and that ain't scary at all."

"The little kids would be though," Carol countered softly, with clear sadness in her voice, "that would be horrible."

But then suddenly flashing again on what had happened to Daryl earlier in the day, her hand flew up to her mouth, as her eyes snapped up to his face. And seeing that terrible look there again, she felt just awful for throwing salt in that wound.

Especially after everything he'd just done for her.

"Oh Daryl," she whispered while slowly coming up to her feet, "I'm sorry, I forgot." She nervously tapped her fingers against her lips, "and I don't know why I keep putting my foot in my mouth today, but I'll um," her voice began to thicken then, as she made a gesture towards the tents, "I'll just go back to bed now before I do it again."

It was pathetic how she couldn't seem to simply be around the man, without doing something _idiotic_! And given this was her second strike with him over less than eight hours, she was fully expecting him to tell her to just go away, and leave him alone for good.

She had that coming.

But for some reason, Daryl didn't say those things. In fact, that time, he didn't even let her leave. And all he had to do to stop her . . . was put his hand on her shoulder. It was clear that he wasn't trying to hold her in place, there was no grip, it was just a small bit of weight that she could feel pressing down on her body. It was warm.

And it was comforting.

Then he leaned down a little to catch her eyes in that faint bit of firelight, and Carol felt like she was in a spider web . . . because she couldn't look away.

"You don't gotta keep runnin' off on my account," Daryl whispered with a gentle squeeze of Carol's shoulder, "I ain't mad at you. Wasn't earlier either. The only time I've been pissed at you since we met, was that day in the woods. That's it."

Feeling her eyes start to water, Carol gave Daryl back a wry smile.

"You were pretty pissed at me that day."

"Yes," he nodded, "I know. I was there. And I stand by me having cause on that one, so I don't feel the need to discuss it again." His eyebrow inched up, "unless you do?"

"No," she let out on a murmur while blinking away the moisture in her eyes, "no, I don't."

"All right then," he let his hand fall down from her shoulder, and back to his side, "let's just leave it there in the past. And as for whatever future conversations we might have here," he gave her a look, "whatever's on your mind you can always speak frank with me, and I'll tell you," he swallowed, "like earlier, if it's something I don't wanna talk about. You respect that, we'll be okay. You make a mistake and hint at something again, we'll still be okay," he bit his lip, "'cuz I know you ain't the type of person to mean anybody else harm."

A tear slipped down Carol's cheek then, but she quickly wiped it away while shaking her head.

"I would never say anything to hurt somebody on purpose," she whispered back, "but I just," she winced, "well, I've hardly had a real conversation with anyone in so long," her lips pressed together, "it's like I forgot how. I just have no instincts anymore. So if I say something else stupid," her lips twisted in a faint smile, "that's where that's coming from."

Daryl's brow furrowed a bit at that.

"Nothing you said today was stupid, Carol," he lightly chastised, "so you need to put that word outta your head." His brow darkened, "that's an _Ed_ , word. And not one person in this camp gives a flyin' fuck what that asswipe thinks about anything, okay?"

Though Carol SO badly, wanted to voice her agreement out loud to that statement . . . that was a hallelujah if she had ever heard one(!) . . . she was much too terrified of the possible consequences if she did. Still, she didn't want to contradict Daryl either, so she had to suffice with the teensiest of head nods before she quickly scanned the area again to make sure Ed hadn't suddenly popped out from one of the shadows.

But nobody was there.

Really though, if her husband had woken up and realized she was gone from the sleeping bag she shared with their daughter . . . he allowed them to sleep separately simply because he wanted nothing to do with his wife unless he was fucking her or beating her . . . he would've already grabbed up his gun and had been storming through the camp looking for her like a bull in a china shop.

Subtlety was NOT a word in Ed Peletier's vocabulary.

It was also clear from the sneer on Daryl's lips as he too took a quick look around the area, that he definitely had a few more thoughts he could've shared on her husband. But when he looked back to her, his expression had evened out.

"How's your wrist?" He asked softly. And she slowly lifted it up, and to her stomach.

"A little better," she nodded, "the pain's not so sharp."

Between the taping and the baby aspirin, they'd both helped to take a small edge off the throbbing. And that was better than what it was before.

Maybe now she could just blissfully pass out.

And she was about to say she was ready to go back to her tent, when Daryl surprised her by reaching over to lift her arm up.

He placed it above her breasts, so her fingers were almost touching her shoulder.

"Try and keep it above your heart, much as you can," he murmured while letting his arms fall back to his side, "it'll help some with the swelling."

"Oh," she nodded, "that's right. I remember." Then she gave him a little smile, "thanks for your help."

"Eh," he gave a dismissive grunt, and shrug, "I just've had some experiences knittin' up stuff myself. So," he gave a slight jerk of his chin off towards her tent, "if you're ready for bed again, I'm gonna go lie down myself."

Not that he was likely to be fallin' asleep anytime soon. Not with this woman on his brain right now. He was estimating a good hour of starin' up at the ceiling of the tent, while he listened to Merle farting on the other side of it. His jaw twitched.

Yeah, should be a good night.

Not that he was gonna share his thoughts there with Carol, he didn't want her knowing how he was startin' to have some genuine interest in her, and her general well-being. And he was thinkin' how much better off her and her girl would be, if a walker could just gobble up that asswipe she was married to. Then Daryl could safely put a bullet in his head. That'd be a day for throwin' a party.

Though he guessed maybe to be polite they'd call it a wake.

Either way, he kept that one to himself while he murmured a, "g'night" to Carol, and took one back from her in return. Then he sent her on her way across the camp. Though he made sure to keep a good eye on her until she was inside her tent again. And he woulda liked to think she was at least mostly safe now in there, but he knew she was just as likely to get killed inside that canvas hut, as she would be wanderin' alone out in the woods. The only difference would be method of death.

And whether she'd need a bullet to put her down a second time.

Anyway though, as he reached down to pick up his weapons, plus flashlight, he knew that wasn't a thought he wanted rollin' around in his head before bed, or really any other time. Because picturing Carol gettin' beaten to death by her husband, or imagining her gettin' bit and turned into a walker, were both thoughts that made him feel like throwing up. So as he started off towards his own tent, he tried to think of less unpleasant things. Like him and Carol gettin' to have coffee again in a few hours.

'Cuz it'd been all right doing that with her the last couple a days.

For one thing the coffee was spot on, not that sludge shit most everybody else (himself included) had been making in that pot before she turned up. But also it was like he just felt real calm when she was nearby. Yeah, she'd got him a little riled today pokin' around some soft spots, but she'd meant well. He'd known that even when he was kinda snippin' at her. But it wasn't really her he was snippin' at. Just the whole fuckin' shit sandwich of a situation that had him beat down. That baby walker in the store, with the dried blood smeared on his face, wearing that dirty, tattered little fire truck shirt.

That was gonna be in Daryl's head when he went to bed too.

It was like he just couldn't catch a break from any of this stuff. Ever. Because you had to be on guard on all day, then you're tryin' to pass out and you had to worry about waking up with rotted teeth tearin' at your throat. And then when you were sleeping you got to play _both_ those movies in your head . . . the day mares and the night ones . . . all at the same damn time! It was like every freakin' minute of your life, you were gettin' fucked in every God damn hole you got!

And NOT in a good way!

But whatever . . . he shook his head . . . weren't no point in gettin' himself worked up thinking about stuff he didn't have any damn control over. Then he'd just be a whiny bitch. And everybody hates a whiny bitch.

Himself especially

So instead, as he started walkin' back to his tent, he made himself just think about Carol, because thinkin' about her kinda cleared his head. At first, like as in the first day, he thought there had to be somethin' particular about her that he liked . . . or was specifically gettin' drawn to, 'cuz he didn't go picking up flowers and herbs around the forest for just anyone. . . but then he realized it was just more everything about her that he liked. Her face for one. She was real pretty. And her eyes were kind. But she was also soft spoken, and after him livin' with a loudmouth jackass for forty years, simply talkin' quiet was a quality that ranked high up on his list of positive traits.

And she was also real polite to everybody in camp. Yeah, he knew some of that was her situation . . . she couldn't afford to be a lion living with that snake . . . but from watchin' her, he'd already picked up that mostly it was just that she was a nice person. And he knew that for sure, 'cuz she was nice to Merle. And _nobody_ was nice to Merle!

Even him.

But she pleased and thank you'd his brother just like he was a regular person who deserved to have pleases and thank yous tossed their way. And again, mostly Merle did not. 'Cuz he was a rude, insulting, SOB, to just about everyone. Except the kids. Daryl rolled his eyes.

The white ones anyway.

Like, he was okay with Carl, and yesterday at dinner when he'd noticed the bruises on Sophia's arm, he muttered something under his breath about horsewhipping that daddy of hers. So yeah, his brother wasn't all bad, but he was bad enough that nobody else did much more than tolerate him. Again, except Carol.

Which definitely said more for her character, than his brother's lack of.

And so far, praise Jeezus, Merle hadn't made any comments about her yet. And Daryl was really hopin' that would last. It helped that she was a good cook, 'cuz Merle did like havin' a full belly. So that might just be enough to keep that sharp tongue of his from lashin' in her direction. And if it wasn't, well . . . Daryl let out a slow breath as he stooped down in front of the tent . . . he'd just have to sock that jackass in the face.

And with that last cheery thought . . . he crawled through the flap.

* * *

 _A/N 2: So you can see undercurrent wise, we're already moving them towards more than just a friendship even though they aren't engaging in any 'inappropriate' behavior. But there is a level of intimacy to their interactions that clearly indicates a deeper bond forming. I figured though that Carol's abuse would be a soft spot for Daryl in terms of his growing protectiveness towards her. If she was physically hurt he wouldn't just ignore that. He'd patch her up, because he knows what that's like._

 _And I know that in canon, they showed Ed having an "unseemly" interest in spending alone time with Sophia, and I will be including that point here (though NOT explicitly). But given how Carol (on the show) seemed to still be successful in being able to get Sophia away from him when he started acting creepy (and he was LETTING Carol pull Sophia away), I'm going with that as a new facet of his 'assholery' and so he's not aggressive about it yet. So it's just going to be turning up here at the camp, in short order. And I think that works from a character point simply because if you have your closet monsters now no longer living in a world with any rules or standards of morality or legality, they're going to start pushing into the boundaries that even they didn't go before. That's been clear on the show on a much larger scale of evil, so Ed would be in that incubation period here. Actually I think an AU where he doesn't die in season 1 but gets driven off by the men, and then eventually turns up aligned with one of the Big Bads our group fights against later on, would have some cool dynamics for 'no mercy' Warrior Carol, getting to finally even THAT score. Just an idea :)_

 _Side note, writing these stories with Daryl, has been destroying my own grammar! I'm from Boston, but live below the Mason/Dixon, and last week I said, "no matter," to the hairdresser. Like she bumped into me, and apologized and I said, "no matter!" And I pronounced the R! And that's not a phrase we use in the north. It's not even a phrase you use in the south, unless you're really EMBEDDED here. I told my sister that it was so embarrassing. Though I did not explain that the reason the phrase fell out of my mouth was because "Daryl" now lives in my head. That would have been much more embarrassing :)_

 _Anyhoo, the plan is to try and get "Now" (at a 10k draft) chugging along again. And if you're enjoying this one too, I'd love to hear it :) Because it is SO very different from the other story, it's fun for me :)_

 _Thanks!_


	4. A Hero Makes A Splash

**Author's Note:** I was looking over the TWD season 1 google images (they've been very helpful here) and I found a series of really beautiful shots of the quarry itself. Apparently it's open for filming so it's kind of advertised, and I really liked the pictures they had up. So much so, that while I was staring at them, I started seeing our little crew here in different spots around the area. Hence, a chapter was born :) The pics are up with the story post on my Tumblr. Again: sienna27

Picking up the next morning.

* * *

 _Day 5_

 **A Hero Makes a Splash**

Daryl stopped short in the middle of the trail to pull the greasy napkin out of his pocket.

It had been about five hours since he'd left camp to go on his daily hunt, and usually he stayed out 'til at least three or four in the afternoon, but even though it wasn't even twelve yet, he was thinkin' it was probably about time to start heading back. The sun kept going in and out, and the wind kept picking up and then dying down. Not to mention he could feel the pressure buildin' up on his ears.

There was definitely a line of storms brewing.

And he definitely wasn't the only one to pick up on that, because most of the animals seemed to have already gone to ground. All he'd shot so far that day . . . aside from a stray walker in a joggin' suit . . . was a single rabbit. And that was first thing that morning, right outside camp.

He hadn't seen hide nor hair of another critter since.

If he was gonna go back early though, and almost empty handed to boot . . . he started unwrapping his napkin . . . no reason not to have his lunch first. That'd keep the ladies from trying to force him to eat whatever they were making for the group meal. So with that thought of saving more food for the others, he walked over and dropped down onto a big moss covered rock to take a load off.

Then he took a bite of the snack Carol had packed for him that morning.

Usually Lori was the one who set him up for the day, but maybe the two of them had had a talk or somethin'. Because the first night in a week Lori didn't give him something to eat, Carol did. And what she'd packed him was pretty good too. That morning while they were having coffee, she'd mixed up a pot of that lousy oatmeal they usually ate, and then fried it into patties, using a bit of the vegetable oil Glen had found last week. The patty she'd given him for breakfast had been the best one . . . it had been nice and hot with crispy edges . . . but even cold, this one he was eatin' now was still okay. It kinda tasted like a cookie. A _healthy_ cookie, but still, it wasn't half bad for something to eat on the go. And it was a definite improvement on just the oatmeal in a bowl.

Man, that was some GLUEY shit!

But that probably wasn't really the ladies fault. All they had to make it with was water, and he was pretty sure he heard Lori saying the box called for milk. And even he knew that powdered creamer stuff didn't count when you were trying to mix up something like that. Which was why this fried version was a real nice treat. Yeah . . . his eyes crinkled a little . . . Carol's arrival in camp had definitely improved his mealtime situation, pretty much across the board.

It was just one more good thing about her being there.

Though he was kinda wonderin' how she was fitting in, just in general. 'Cuz he was outta the camp so much durin' the day, he only really got to see her around the others, at dinner. And that's when they were all shovelin' food in their faces. Plus asswipe was always there then too. And God knew she barely let out a peep when he was in the vicinity. Daryl scowled.

It was like he just killed her spirit.

Really, all these hours he'd been walkin' through the woods with no game to follow, the more time he found himself just thinkin' about that situation. And it's not like just walkin' up and shootin' that fucker in the head, hadn't SERIOUSLY crossed his mind more than once. Because Ed was the freakin' poster child for, "if anyone deserved it, he did." The problem with that one was simple though.

Daryl had never killed a livin' person before.

And no, he wasn't so naïve as to think he was gonna get through this new world without eventually gettin' warm blood on his hands . . . but he just wasn't ready for that yet. So that bullet was gonna have to remain a fantasy for now. It was a good fantasy though. One that popped into his head pretty much every time those fresh bruises on Carol's wrist did.

Which was far too often.

But Daryl did have another thought, a more practical solution, that he was thinking about tryin' out. It was the idea of maybe talkin' to Merle about putting the fear of Jesus Christ himself into Ed. 'Cuz Merle, in addition to enjoyin' harassing people on a verbal scale, had always REALLY enjoyed kicking the crap out of pretty much anyone he could get away with kicking the crap out of. And really, he enjoyed it even if he _couldn't_ get away with it.

So many bar fights . . . Daryl sighed . . . so many nights in jail.

But _these_ days, all the 'excitement' his brother really got, was killin' walkers. And even for someone as messed up as Merle, that wasn't much fun. You could mostly disconnect from it, make your brain think of 'em as just 'brain dead monsters' . . . which _was_ what they were now . . . but still, much too often, you'd be reminded of the person that brain dead monster used to be. Like the old lady the other night in her pink bathrobe. Daryl bit his lip.

And that baby boy yesterday in the market.

But anyway . . . he shook his head as he shoved the empty napkin back into his pocket . . . no need to be thinkin' on that boy again. It'd been hard enough sleepin' last night. And more to the point, back to the plan he'd been kinda thinkin' on . . . how Merle enjoyed kicking the shit out of people just for fun. And he was already NOT a fan of Ed's for what he'd done to Sophia alone, so it might not take much to convince him to do some ass kickin' for good cause. Daryl would of course have been happy to just take care of the problem all on his own, but he did have to admit . . . Ed was a big motherfucker. Not so big he couldn't take him down on his own if he had to, but havin' some help would be good in makin' sure the job got done quick, and brutal.

And with minimal black eyes for him personally, would be ideal.

Because him and Merle together, shit, they could break that fucker's jaw and his nose, bust both his kneecaps, bruise both kidneys, and break all his fingers. Basically they could hobble that bitch so bad he wouldn't be able to lift his dick to piss the blood that'd be comin' out of it, let alone lay a hand on his family. That could buy Carol and Sophia weeks, if not months, of peace. And with the state of general medical care at the moment bein' non-existent, after a solid beat down like that, Ed'd be lucky if anything healed well enough for him to ever walk straight again. And odds were even _better_ , with him bein' handicapped like that, he'd end up walker chow in no time at all.

Praise Jesus.

Really the more Daryl thought about that plan, the more he liked it. Provided he could get Merle on board that is. That was definitely kinda key to making it all come together just right. But provided his brother didn't opt to get high as a kite tonight . . . with his need to ration the pills, that was generally an every 'one to three day' thing . . . he was definitely gonna bring it up after hours in the tent. And in the meantime, Daryl tipped his head back to look up at the sky.

The sun had just disappeared.

And with it taking a full a ten count for it to come back again, he knew it was definitely time to get movin'. Because the last place you wanted to be stuck out in a thunderstorm . . . he gave a nervous look around at the trees . . . was the middle of the woods. So with that, he jammed the napkin into his pants pocket, and hopped back up on his feet.

Then he started back the way he'd come.

/*/*/*/*/

"Hey, I told you I'd finish that. You should be keeping that arm rested."

Hearing Lori's worried voice coming up behind her, Carol turned to give her new friend a soft smile.

"No, it's okay," she gave a little shrug as she went back to scrubbing a stain out of Daryl's shirt . . . she was pretty sure it was duck guts from cleaning his kill the other night, "I'd rather keep busy and earn my keep."

Lori snorted.

"Earn your keep," she continued with a huff as she dropped back down onto the milk crate by her side and picked up the next thing in the small stack of dirty clothes . . . it was one of Sophia's tank tops, "you do as much, if not more around this place," she picked up a chunk of soap, "than anyone else. I don't think I've seen you sit still once since you got here."

Starting to feel slightly self-conscious, Carol gave another little shrug, and a, "well, I just like to keep busy."

Then, in the hope of Lori losing in interest in _that_ conversation . . . the one where she went on from how much work Carol did, to how her worthless husband did absolutely nothing . . . she asked how lunch was coming along with Jacqui and the Harrison sisters. And she did that, because she didn't want to talk about herself anymore. It had been hard enough getting through the third degree she got that morning at breakfast, when the other women had seen her arm all bandaged up. Even though Carol had tried to just say it was a sprain from handling the skillet wrong, they all knew it was Ed. And yes, she did feel kind of foolish lying to them about something so obvious . . . that her husband was a monster . . . but she couldn't just come out and SAY that. Because that would lead to a whole other host of conversations. Like why she'd stayed all those years with a man who beat the hell out of her for almost every hellish day of their marriage. These weren't the kind of women who understood situations like hers. They were all strong and independent.

They didn't know what it was like to have to have the spirit beaten out of you.

Daryl seemed to though. Just in the way that he'd patched her up last night, and had murmured about having some experiences with, "knitting," things up. That's how he'd put it. And she had a feeling just based on the obvious contempt he had for her husband, that maybe he'd grown up with a daddy like Ed.

Carol had too.

That's how she'd ended up with Ed. She'd made the same mistake her mother did.

Trusting a very bad man.

From beside her then, Carol could hear Lori clearing her throat, and that's when she realized she'd kind of tuned out the lunch conversation that she'd initiated. And she was trying to tune back in again so as not to seem rude . . . it seemed that peanut butter and crackers were on tap . . . when suddenly Lori sucked in a deep breath. It was almost a gasp . . . and then she was up and off of her milk crate. And she was yelling.

That was something they never did.

"CARL GRIMES! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?! GET DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT!"

And Carol's head snapped up. Because since they'd arrived in camp and Sophia had met Carl, wherever that boy went . . . she was right behind him! And when Carol saw where the two of them were now . . . racing along the access road that ran up and around the side of the quarry . . . she almost had a heart attack.

"SOPHIA!" Carol yelled as she jumped up next to Lori . . . Daryl's shirt fluttered down to her feet, "YOU HEARD LORI! GET BACK HERE!"

Good God, they were running RIGHT along the edge of the rocks! They'd reached about the mid-way point heading up, and it was a good twenty to thirty foot drop off the side, straight down into the water.

And none of them knew how deep that went.

But after Carol yelled, she could see both of the children finally freeze, right before they spun back around. And then Carl, somewhat petulantly back to his mother.

"BUT MOM, IT WAS A _RACE_!"

"DID I _ASK_ YOU WHAT IT WAS?!" Lori yelled back furiously, now heading around to the lower end of the access road . . . the kids had to have climbed the rocks while they were talking, "JUST GET YOUR BUTTS BACK DOWN HERE, NOW! AND IF I HAVE TO SAY IT AGAIN CARL, YOU'LL BE CONFINED TO THE TENT FOR A WEEK!"

That time Carol saw the scuff of that boy's sneaker, right before he shoved his hands into his pockets.

"YES MA'AM!" He called back, now with a clear note of dejection in his voice.

And then he muttered something to Sophia that Carol couldn't hear . . . even with the slight echo in the quarry, they were too far up . . . and her daughter nodded as her eyes darted over and down to her mother's.

"I'M SORRY, MAMA!" She called down with a half wave. "WE'RE COMING!"

"ALL RIGHT, HONEY!" Carol waved her arm as she started over to where Lori was standing, "JUST MOVE BACK FROM THE EDGE, YOU'RE TOO . . ."

And that's when she saw her daughter's foot slip on a loose rock.

Carol screamed right before Sophia did.

/*/*/*/

Daryl was just wandering down to the quarry to find Carol . . . on the way back to camp, he'd found another bundle of the peppermint for her . . . when he heard a scream.

And then another one almost right on top of it.

He took off at a flat run, even as he heard more yelling coming back to him. And of course when he broke through the brush, he was fully expectin' to see walkers somehow coming in from the other side of the quarry . . . which shoulda been damn near impossible given the geography . . . but he caught sight of something else instead.

Something almost as bad.

First both Lori and Carol were yellin' as they scrambled to climb up the rocks leading to the access road . . . and then high up ahead, he saw the kids. Carl was laying flat out on his belly leaning over the high edge of the quarry. He had a death grip on Sophia's forearm. She was dangling at least twenty or so feet over the water.

That was about a two story drop.

"OH SHIT!"

The curse was coming out of Daryl's mouth even while he started throwing down his weapons and his bag, and racing towards the quarry's edge. Because he could see she was going in. That little boy did not have the muscles to hold her up longer than a few more seconds.

And their mamas were not going to get there in time.

And sure enough, Daryl had just gotten his second boot off when he heard the next set of screams. Again, one after another. That time it was definitely Sophia first . . . and then Carol. Then as Daryl was yanking off his belt . . . knives and a dead rabbit were gonna weigh him down . . . it was Carl sobbing Sophia's name.

Then the splash.

Daryl was suckin' in a breath as he closed in the last three feet. The last thing he heard was Carol's sob of, "DARYL PLEA . . ."

Then he dove in.

FUCK!

That shit was cold enough to shrivel his BALLS! But the good thing was, he did get a clean slice into the water. And he really needed that, 'cuz he had to go STRAIGHT down. Because from the height she'd fallen, even with her bitty weight, he knew that little girl had to have sunk a good six to eight feet into the depths. And as deep down as he needed to go to find her, the sun didn't reach that far.

Even if it hadn't just disappeared behind another cloud.

So Daryl couldn't see jack shit, but for some REALLY dark blue! But he knew Sophia was somewhere in that blue, so he just kicked and sliced through the water, watchin' for the stream of bubbles.

Then sure enough . . . his eyes widened . . . there were a whole mess of 'em comin' up just ahead!

So he gave another hard kick to go down just a little further, and then he started feeling around with his hands until he finally felt something . . . cold little fingers. And he felt a flood of relief like he'd never had before.

Because FUCK if he hadn't been scared to death he wouldn't find her at all!

But the second he got a hold of her, she was scramblin' to get a hold of him, so at least he knew she still had her wits about her. Which was a real good thing, because as he pulled her to his chest, and started kickin' hard again . . . now to go the other way . . . he could see from the bubbles that she was doin' the same thing.

Good girl.

It was on him though, to get them back up to the surface. But his lungs were about to start screamin' by then, and he knew Sophia's had to have been hurtin' even worse. Still, there was no way in this new hell, that he was breaking through that surface without that little girl right with him.

It would kill her mother.

It was a rough one though, gettin' out of the deep pulling her along too. It was at least another three or four seconds . . . which was a fuckin' LIFETIME when you were you were outta air(!) . . . before Daryl saw that faint grey sunlight above his head.

He broke through the surface with a ragged gasp . . . almost the exact same one that he heard from the little one clinging to his chest.

"GOT HER!" He spit out, along with the mouth full of water he got when he tried to talk.

And then with Sophia now crying and Carol and Lori, and God knew who else, yelling . . . the whole camp was probably out there by then, at least everybody who hadn't gone on the gasoline run . . . he shifted around to do the backstroke, 'cuz that was the easiest way to keep both their heads up, for the swim back to shore.

When he was about three feet out . . . which was just before the drop off . . . T-Dog waded in up to his knees, to help him the rest of the way. So Daryl gratefully took the tug on the arm, to get pulled into shallow water. Then he passed him up his little charge. And T-Dog in turn ran out and brought that girl up to her mama, waitin' there on the dry land.

Carol was sobbing as she folded Sophia up into her arms, and then Daryl kind of lost her as the rest of the womenfolk closed in around the two of 'em.

And Daryl, well, he crawled the rest of the way out of the shallows . . . spit up a bit more of what he'd swallowed down gettin' to shore . . . and then he collapsed on the rocks. That's when he started sucking air harder than he had in a REAL long time!

Nobody was payin' him any attention though. Nor should they. He was a grown man. And he'd be fine. Of course that was the point where he began to spit up a bit more of that ice cold water.

All right, yeah . . . he started coughing like a leper . . . this might take a minute.

But after another two or three minutes, he was still down there on his hands and knees tryin' to get a normal breath. That frigging 'in and out' rhythm though, which shoulda been the natural flow, was just NOT coming back like it should! And that's when Daryl realized . . . it wasn't just his lungs that were the problem.

It was the adrenaline.

That was still surgin' through his body. Because fuck yeah, okay, that little girl falling like that, had scared the ever living SHIT out of him! And when he finally lifted up his head again, to look over to where he'd last seen Carol and her daughter, he saw that the little one was cuddled up in her lap and Carol was rubbing her arms up and down her back. That child was shaking something fierce though.

And she was practically blue.

The crowd around them had also thinned out to just T-Dog and Lori, and a still half in tears, panic stricken Carl, down there in the dirt. But that's 'cuz Lori was being Lori and had sent people off to do things that were helpful, like get warm blankets and put on a pot of hot water, instead of everyone standing around like dummies.

That was not helpful at all.

That was also when Daryl realized that Ed still hadn't shown up for all the ruckus. But then he remembered last night when he was on watch, he'd heard Shane out in back of the trailer, whispering to Lori about Ed having to start pitchin' in like the others. And they'd had a gasoline run already planned for that day, so he musta dragged him off on that. Merle and Glen had already been going. And really, it was just as well that dickhead wasn't there now, because he'd have already smacked the shit out of Carol just for Sophia falling.

Because of course that woulda been her fault.

That worry about what Ed might do to Carol later, was what made Daryl keep starin' over at her for longer than maybe he should have. Finally though, she looked up.

And when their eyes caught, it hurt him to see how the tears were pooled in hers. Then she bit down hard on her lip, right before she mouthed, ' _thank you._ '

He just nodded.

Then he tried to push himself up, and at least back to his knees. Because it was about damn time he got up off the rocks. But that's when Amy and Andrea came running back down the hill with the blankets. Andrea headed for Carol and Sophia.

Amy headed for him.

And you coulda knocked him over with a damn feather, when she stooped down to wrap that heavy grey wool around his shoulders.

"Are you all right, Daryl?" Amy then asked him with a slightly awkward pat to his arm . . . though with what was also a surprisingly worried tone. Again, coulda knocked him over with a damn feather for that. Because somebody in that camp (somebody besides Carol, that is) was actually _concerned_ about his well being. Him. Daryl.

Daryl Dixon.

So he found himself chattering back a gruff, "yeah, yeah, fine." Then he finished pushing himself to his feet. And with the full body shivers startin' to hit him by then . . . the sun was totally gone, and he really needed to get those wet clothes off . . . he shook his head like a dog after a bath, trying to get some of the extra water off.

From beside him though, he heard a slight squeak from Amy when she jumped back to get out of the way.

"Sorry," he grunted while giving her a bit of a nod. 'Cuz unlike her sister, Amy was a nice kid, and he'd kinda forgot she was standin' so close. Now if that had been _Andrea_ he'd soaked, the apology might not of been quite so sincere.

Though when he saw her over there trying to help Carol get her daughter wrapped up tight in the blanket, it was hard to feel his usual level of 'general disdain,' that he felt for that woman.

Apparently even she had her decent qualities.

And he very much wanted to go over and check on Carol and Sophia himself, but even with Ed likely outta the camp for at least a few more hours, he didn't feel comfortable going up on 'em so direct.

Not with everyone payin' so close attention and all.

Which was why, even when he heard the ladies saying how they needed to get Sophia up the hill and over to the fire, he let T-Dog step in to carry her rather than doin' that himself. Again, better to not be seen as overly involved in their situation. He'd done his bit, now it was just time for him to step back and let the others help out. Even if he did hate seein' Carol so upset, and not being able to do nothin' about calming her down. But he told himself he'd just check on her later.

When there weren't so many people around.

That was also why he made himself wait there by the rocks until all the others had gone, before he made a move to get back up the hill himself. He did that just so he wouldn't be tempted to go up to her when he shouldn't. By that point though, once he was all alone that is, his breathing was better, and he'd stopped spitting up water. That was the good stuff. The bad stuff was how his whole body, from toes, to ass, to nose, was freezin' cold, and his teeth wouldn't stop chatterin' like those fake windup ones. And he was startin' to think maybe a little time by the fire might not be such a bad idea for him too.

Either that or get a nice drop in his core temp.

It was hard though, shufflin' along trying to get his boots and his weapons and all his other crap, with his hands shakin' the way they were. But then suddenly Lori came running down through the brush, snatching up his bow and belt along the way, and yelling at him for still being down there by himself.

Saying how he needed to get up to the camp, and change out of his wet clothes.

Now, unlike Amy, who'd actually sounded 'nice' and concerned, Lori just mostly seemed more frustrated with him. But she did at least seem to care about him catchin' the hypothermia . . . she used the word twice while she was pushin' him along up the hill . . . but that mighta just been 'cuz without him around to go huntin' every day, their food supply was gonna kind of majorly drop off. So yeah, it probably was just (mostly) a 'best for the group he stay alive' type concern, rather than anything particular for him personally.

Not that he was expectin' anymore than that.

Even still, it was helpful having her pushin' him along, because the muscles in his legs were startin' to really stiffen up. They were still covered over though in those sopping wet pants, and the sun was still hiding up above, while the breeze kept kickin' up down below.

The air was cooler than it had been in weeks.

But he was expecting once they got up to camp proper, Lori would just shove him off in the direction of his tent, and go back to whatever she was doin' to help Carol out with Sophia. Instead of cuttin' him loose though, she kept him moving off towards Dale's camper. When they finally got to that door, and he turned to give her a confused look, that's when her expression softened for the first time since she'd gone to collect him.

"You've got dry clothes inside from the laundry," she explained quietly while putting his belt, bow, bag and quiver down on the small table by the door, "and I figured it would be easier to change out of the wet ones here than in the tent."

"Oh," he chattered back, his gaze shifting over to the closed screen, "right."

And so he made to reach out and open the door, but just when he did, he felt Lori's hand on his back again.

"You did good today, Daryl," she murmured with a soft pat of his shoulder, "you did really good."

Then her hand fell away, and he heard her walkin' off, calling over to Jacqui down by the fire, to ask whether the water had boiled yet.

For a second he just stood there, staring down at his toes, processing that moment of actually gettin' from _anyone_ , a 'good job, pat on the back.' For real. Then he blinked and shook his head, and continued on up inside the trailer.

The stair creaked beneath him.

And when he stepped through the doorway, and he felt the smooth tile beneath his bare, slightly cut up feet . . . the rocks had been rough, going up the hill . . . his eyes widened when he saw Carol over at the table, repacking the first aid kit.

When she heard the door click, she turned around and their eyes locked for the second time since he'd pulled her girl out of the water. But before he could ask her how Sophia was doing . . . he was figurin' she'd got a little scraped up on the fall if the kit was out . . . she was rushin' over and throwin' her arms around his neck.

"Thank you," she sobbed in his ear, "thank you so much for saving her!"

And he found himself wincin' at the pain in her voice, as one of his arms came up from under the blanket to gently pat her back.

"Wasn't nothin'," he murmured dismissively, trying to ignore how good her warm body felt against his freezing cold one, "just right place, right time."

And Carol pulled back then, sniffling, to give him a hard look.

"It _wasn't_ just right place, right time, Daryl," she continued on with a press of her hand down on his chest, "it was brave. You could've died. What you did today for my girl," her voice cracked, "her daddy never would've done that for her." She sniffled again. "You remember that. And now," she sucked in a breath as she let her hand fall so she could start pulling away the wet wool blanket off his shoulders, "you need to go in the back and change, or you're going to get sick. You've got a full dry outfit on the bed," she continued quickly with a sniff and a gesture off over her shoulder, "and then you should go sit by the fire. Sophia's already out there," her head tipped towards the door, "and Jacqui's making a hot broth for you guys out of the bouillon cubes. It should be ready in a couple minutes."

Though she knew she was talking too fast, Carol was trying to keep herself distracted, so she wouldn't break down completely. Because literally all she had in this world was her daughter . . . who was her whole life . . . and then this man who she had known less than a week. Less than a week, and they hardly spoke . . . except in whispers. And they barely touched . . . and never in front of anyone else. And still she felt more connected to him than anyone else she'd ever known before, besides her daughter.

And she'd almost lost them both.

Even though Daryl had an awareness that he was supposed to get a move on to changin' his clothes, he was too distracted worryin' about how Carol was acting . . . her tone was too high pitched, and her eyes were too bright . . . to really be concerned with himself. So instead of doing what he was told, which he hardly ever did anyway, he just reached out to let his cold fingers loosely close around her warm wrist.

The one without the bandage.

"Is she all right?" He asked with a soft tone, because he had to figure her behavior was comin' out of worry for her girl, "Sophia, I mean. 'Cuz I couldn't tell how much water she took in before we got out."

Carol bit her lip as she blinked back the fresh tears she could feel forming.

"She did spit up some," she answered hoarsely, "but I don't think she took in too much to start. Because she told me that she was able to take a breath before she went under. And you guys were down for um," she sniffled, "well, it seemed like forever, but it was probably only maybe a minute. If that. And she'd had swimming lessons at school last year, just the basics, but she'd been tested on holding her breath for as long as she could. She got a little sticker for reaching forty seconds." Then Carol's voice cracked, "never really thought I'd be so grateful for a little sticker."

Seeing how hard she was tryin' to keep herself together there, Daryl didn't say anything then. He just brushed his thumb along the inside of her wrist. But strange enough . . . that seemed to be the damn thing that broke her.

Because suddenly she just burst into tears.

For a second he just stood there, his eyes wide and feeling half in a panic, not knowin' what the hell he was supposed to do! Or really more what he was _allowed_ to do! 'Cuz really, he wasn't ALLOWED to do anything, not given her situation! But he couldn't just watch her hurtin' like that. So finally he just said fuck it . . . they were inside and even with the few curtains open it was mostly a private space . . . so he reached over and slipped his arm around her shoulders.

Then he pulled her to his chest.

And when she tucked her head down against his wet shirt, he murmured in her ear, "shh, it's all right, Peach. It's all right. She'll be okay."

It took a second, but then Carol tipped her head back, and looked up at him still with watery eyes, but a faint look of confusion on her face.

"Did you just call me, Peach?" She sniffled as another tear spilled over and slipped down.

And that was when Daryl's cheeks started to get hot.

"Oh," he breathed back with an embarrassed shift of his eyes, "yeah. Sorry."

Carol blinked and sniffed again. "But _why_ did you call me that?"

It was such an odd thing to hear him say right then, that it was enough to distract her from her tears. Not that she was entirely sure if Daryl was going to answer her though. His jaw was just twitching as he stared down at the floor. And his face was looking quite flush.

It was probably the only part of him that was warm.

But then he let out a slow breath, and dragged his gaze back up to hers.

"Because you're sweet," he answered with a faint murmur, as his eyes fell again, "like a Georgia peach."

There, and now that he had _COMPLETELY_ humiliated himself by answerin' her question honestly . . . though in his defense he would've GLEEFULLY lied to the woman if he coulda thought of a lie to use(!) . . . he knew it was time to get on with changing his clothes and avoidin' Carol like the new plague, until he could find a walker to put him out of his misery.

Shouldn't take but a day or so if he put a little effort into it.

So to that hoped for end, he dropped his arm down from her shoulders, and started to move around her. But then he felt her warm palm once more pressing down on his icy chest.

His eyes snapped back to hers.

That time, even though the tears were still there, he could see a bright, watery, smile had cut through her sadness. Then she reached up, and brushed her thumb along his cheek.

"I like it," she whispered. And his eyes widened in surprise.

"Yeah?" He asked gruffly. "S'okay?"

She swallowed.

"Yeah," she murmured with a fresh pool of tears filling her eyes, "it's very okay."

It was just then, when he was about to reach over and take her hand, that Daryl heard the rattle of the screen door, a split second before it was whipped open.

Both he and Carol jumped back from each other.

It was Lori that was coming in. And it was obvious that she knew she'd just interrupted something, because her eyes immediately dropped. She put her hand up.

"Sorry, I uh," she made a blind gesture towards the table, "I was just getting the kit. When I was fixing her blanket I saw that Sophia got a little scrape on her ankle that we missed before, but I thought we should clean it out just to be safe."

"Oh, right, yes," Carol started scrubbing at her tears as she turned to hurry over and pick up the small white box again, "I'll get it."

As she brushed by Daryl again on her way towards the door, she gave him a small push towards the back.

"Go change," she murmured with a brief flicker of her eyes up towards his, "then you come get your broth while it's hot, okay?"

And he gave a quick, sharp nod, because he was too afraid to speak again.

But then with the sound of the step creaking again. . . Carol and Lori leaving . . . he started to head towards the bedroom. But that's when he heard Lori speak.

And he realized she hadn't left.

"If you're not more careful than that," she said softly, "you're going to get her killed."

He spun back around then, with his eyes blazing hot, and a voice to match.

"Lori Grimes, there ain't nothing about my life for you to be concernin' yourself with," he let out on a deep growl, "especially given how you got some personal business of your _own_ ," her gave her a sharp, knowing, look, "that you don't want other people mindin', now do you?"

It might've been a low blow bringing up her screwin' her husband's partner, but she was treading into areas where she had no business treading into! So she was gonna get what was coming back to her! And it was clear from how she winced, that woman knew exactly what he was referrin' to . . . her and Shane fuckin' like rabbits every chance they got!

But aside from a faint reddening of her cheeks, Lori didn't seem to be too ashamed of that being thrown at her. Instead she just took a step forward, and tipped her head.

"You're right," she said softly, "I do have some personal business that I wouldn't appreciate people commenting on. And I'm not trying to butt into your life, Daryl. I'm just worried about what Ed can do to her," she gave him a pleading look, "when none of us are around to stop him."

And apparently seeing how his face twisted at that, she continued on with a soft and knowing tone.

"You're the one that fixed her wrist last night, aren't you? Because she couldn't have bound that up herself."

His jaw twitched.

"What's it to you?" He asked gruffly, as his anger faded a bit. And he saw her lips press together, right before she took another step forward.

There were now just inches separating them.

"I can see you care about her, Daryl," she said with a sad smile, "and you did an amazing thing today saving her daughter. So all I'm saying is, for her sake you either need to be much more careful than you were just being, or you need to just get rid that creep she's married to, all together."

Daryl's eyes widened.

"You tellin' me to _kill_ her husband?" He sputtered back in disbelief. And Lori slowly shook her head.

"No," she whispered, "I'm just saying that if you _had_ to," she gave him a look, "nobody here would question you for that."

For a moment Daryl just stood there, starin' down in disbelief, feeling like he was in some kinda Twilight Zone conversation. Finally the rest of his anger kind of fell away . . . it didn't have no purpose . . . and he just shook his head.

"I don't know what you think I've done in my life, Lori," he said softly, "but I ain't never killed nobody. I've busted some heads, broke a few ribs," he swallowed, "maybe a jaw or two, but those were all grown men, and those were all fair fights. And," he shook his head sadly, "I do wanna get them away from him, but I can't do what you're saying without becomin' somebody I ain't."

It was the weirdest fuckin' thing in the world, having this conversation with this woman. But from the beginning, Lori had been very openly protective of Carol when Ed started in on her. And she was always looking for things that the kids could do together, to make sure Sophia was kept busy, well away from her daddy. So yeah, Lori was probably the only other person in the camp, who might've actually given this clusterfuck of a situation the same amount of thought he had. Though if her only solution so far was just to have him kill Ed, then, well . . . Daryl pushed down a sigh . . . they were both pretty much nowhere.

And he could see now in how Lori's expression had softened some, that maybe she'd realized how much she'd misjudged the person he was. But he didn't really take offense at that. 'Cuz bein' charitable, he could get how he might come off as somebody with harder edges than he really had.

Especially showin' up with a brother like Merle.

And that's when Lori let out a heavy breath, while bringing her arms up to cross at her chest.

"I'm sorry," she whispered with a faint gnawing of her lip, "I didn't mean to put that weight on you. And I didn't really think you had a bad history like that, or I wouldn't have let Carl spend any time with you. I just thought, well," she let out another sigh, "you're really good at killing walkers, so I thought, maybe foolishly, but that you could just pretend Ed was already dead."

He snorted.

"Trust me woman," he rolled his eyes, "if it was that easy to flip the switch, I woulda done it already. But I do have a bit of a plan, which you probably don't wanna hear about 'cuz it would involve Merle, but if I can get it to work, Carol shouldn't have to worry about anything for awhile. But anyway," he pushed down another shiver as he jerked his thumb over his shoulder, "I need to get outta these wet clothes now or I ain't gonna see my balls for days."

"Yeah," Lori blinked and shook her head, "okay, thank you for that image. So uh," she started to turn away, "I'll just keep a good thought for your plan to work. Though," she turned back, "can I ask you, please," she bit her lip, "don't tell Carl about me and Shane. It would hurt him."

Daryl's brow darkened.

"Lori, I had no intention of discussin' your _sex_ life with that boy or anybody else. That's not my business, and it sure as hell ain't your boy's. But," he gave her a look, "as long as you're throwing out advice about bein' more careful about shit, you might wanna take some of your own there, 'cuz your secret is probably about as well kept around here as Glen bein' sweet on Amy."

That time Lori didn't say anything back to him . . . she was a little too busy turnin' into a ripe tomato probably, to speak again. Because apparently it had not occurred to her that basically everyone in the damn camp EXCEPT Carl(!) already had stumbled past the tent while she and Shane were going at it.

That thought most definitely seemed to be on mind now though. Because all she did was just gave him a half nod and a sorta squeak, right before she stumbled backwards out the door.

He just shook his head.

Then he got another full body shiver, and started unbuttoning his pants as he hurried back through the divider.

Seriously . . . he grumbled while yankin' down his zipper . . . he wasn't gonna see his balls for a WEEK!

* * *

 _A/N 2: Another long, slightly rambly, note :)_

 _Ah, our poor innocent season 1 kids, who had never killed anyone and were worried about the people they'd become if they ever did :( So yeah, if you were thinking, well, Daryl can just kill Ed…he can't. Not Daryl at this stage. Not any of them at this stage, remember Shane was the first to cross over that line to kill Otis, for what HE felt was a just moral reason, saving Carl. And he still literally went insane. So the Ed situation is going to stay a mess for a bit longer._

 _Side comment to the Shane saga, it is curious that he was correct from beginning that sometimes they were going to have to kill the living, but he was the only one in their group who wasn't mentally stable enough to live with making those decisions. He's another one that if he hadn't died when he did, I think would have gone so far off the rails that he could have joined up with one of the other groups and really done some damage. Because once Lori kicked him to the curb, his heart started shriveling up on him like a reverse Grinch/Who'ville situation. For the good/bad guys, I always found him to be much more fascinating than Merle. Merle was entertaining because Rooker made him so, and he had a small moral redemption right at the end, but Shane was a decent man (if slightly chauvinistic) to start, but he just broke. Like a truck rolling down the highway and pieces start slowly flying off into the wind. The three people he loved more than anything (and he clearly loved Rick as much as he did Lori), two of them he ended up despising enough to want dead. THAT'S what brings you to genuine, black hearted, villainy! Ah, good times! :)_

 _But anyway, back on topic! :) Overall I really liked writing Daryl generally at this stage where he still so much feels like an outsider. We can step back and see that what's happening with the events here at the quarry is that their group is starting to solidify and have concern for one another as individuals. They want him to be well because he's one of them, and did a good thing, not JUST because his skill set would be a loss for the group. But all he can see is people who don't want to starve, trying to protect their meal ticket. Or at least that's what he keeps telling himself, because the idea of people caring is so foreign to him, that he MUST suspect secondary motives for acts of kindness._

 _I don't think Glen was ever shown to be sweet on Amy, but it seems like something that could've been true, doesn't it? :)_

 _And seeing how my googling only gave likely times for adults, I did my own half ass 'holding my breath' test for this chapter. I didn't get any stickers out of it, but, as a grown female, I did reach 55 seconds before I felt like my lungs would explode outwards and make a horrible mess. If my life depended on it I could have gone on a bit longer, so I figured little Sophia with smaller lungs, but a bit of practice, could get to about 40 without a problem, and hang in there another 10-15 while Daryl pulled her up. Also, just because I am an uber nerd who tries to work in as much authenticity to this fake crap as possible, I did try to calculate how deep down Sophia would have plunged when she hit the water. I was picturing a nice neat physics equation I could scribble out to get the number, but do you know what nice 'neat' little physics equations you need to use to get that number? Ones involving the laws of fluid dynamics! Yeah, they like FILL the page! So, I did a "CTRL End" to the bottom of this Cornell grad student's paper :) and got a relatively short answer, which was basically that with all factors involved, going in toes first from twenty to thirty feet up, a grown man would probably plunge down about eight to twelve feet depending on his weight. So walking back the cat, that's why I put much lighter Sophia at five to six on a VERY rough estimate! :)_

 _If it's not obvious yet, I do like Lori. As mentioned last time, like Andrea, I thought she was also done a disservice by the male writing staff. But if you step back from how she came off during the Shane debacle, she was just a tough, strong willed woman who spoke her mind, and got shit done. So you know, that's why she had to be remembered as "a bitch" :) But anyway, I'd like to let her live a little longer either here, or over in TIN because I thought she deserved more time. So to be clear, we're already on enough of an AU here that people might live or die on a different schedule than you're expecting._

 _And lastly, I decided I wanted Daryl to have a very different nickname for Carol in this world because their relationship is evolving in a very different way than in "TIN." And there are only certain terms of endearment that you could hear Daryl using, but I liked Peach because it was so clearly southern, and also something he could call her in front of other people and they could just assume it was a straight nickname that could have any kind of neutral back story. Like even in a canon world where they were just best friends and nothing more (that's the world where all the non-shippers live :)), he could call her Peach because when they met her hair was short and fuzzy :) It would only mean something more to Carol knowing the reasoning he shared with her here. And I have an idea for a unique Sophia nickname for this world too. It'll be coming along :)_

 _The next one here will continue on through their hours without Ed._

 _Thanks everyone!_


	5. Tangled Strings & Blustery Days

**Author's Note:** This is our longest one yet here. On par with "TIN," but as I mentioned over on Tumblr, I decided that if the gaps between posts are going to be what they are (and that's because I have a new job, also a point outlined on Tumblr and explained more at the end) then I'd try and make each new chapter, good and fat.

So we're continuing on from the events of the last chapter, and following them on through the rest of the day.

* * *

 _Day 5_

 **Tangled Strings and Blustery Days**

After Daryl had gotten himself changed into some dry duds, he picked up his drippy pile of half-ass folded clothes (he was trying to be somewhat less of a slob for the ladies' sake) and carried them out to the front part of the camper. He was gonna go straight outside and put 'em back in the laundry pile. But before he could get that far, he ended up stoppin' short.

'Cuz he'd just run into Carol again.

At that moment, she was comin' back through the screen door with the first aid kit under her arm. That time when he saw her though, he made sure to keep a solid buffer between them, instead of walkin' up on her like before. And then he gave her a look from where she'd stopped short in front of the sink.

She was just staring at him.

"It don't look good us bein' alone in here again," he pointed out, as gentle as he could, because he just didn't have it in him to grouch at her. Not with how upset she'd been about Sophia almost drowning. That was a stress he knew was gonna stick with her at least through the rest of the day.

And he could see her now, bitin' her lip, right before she gave him a faint nod.

"I know," she whispered, "but Ed's still not back yet so it's not so bad."

"Ed's only part of it, Carol," Daryl countered in the same quiet tone, "I don't want anybody _else_ thinkin' things about ya either. And if you keep coming back in here to be alone with me," he gave her another look, "people are gonna notice."

Yeah, all right, Lori's comment had kind of stuck in his craw. Not just for makin' a decent point about how bad that woulda been for Carol if it really _had_ been Ed coming through that door instead of her, but also it reminded him of how the last thing he wanted, was for folks to start gossipin' about Carol, like they had been about Lori. Not like the Lori gossip was ever _real_ mean spirited, and it had all stopped since people got to know her better, but when they first all joined up and folks found out her husband had _just_ died, that strange relationship between her and Shane, had definitely sparked some whispers.

And that was with just about everyone.

And the whispers were of course always about _her_ having sex right after her husband died. They were never about Shane screwing his dead partner's widow. So Daryl didn't wanna be puttin' Carol in that spot Lori'd been in.

The one where she was the whore.

So even though most of him really wanted to reach out and be able to touch her again like he had before, he made sure to keep those few feet of distance between them. It was hard though, because he could see with that little wrinkle in Carol's brow, and the way she was bitin' her lip, that she was kinda hurt that he was pullin' back.

Then she let out a faint sigh.

"I only came in again because I'd noticed you have a scrape on your arm," she murmured, while pointing towards his left side, "and I wanted to make sure you cleaned it up so it wouldn't get infected."

His expression softened a bit at that. Because it would just figure that she was only there bein' nice . . . bein' _sweet_ again . . . and still he had to be a hardass about this crap. But then he reminded himself, he was doing this for her sake, not his. 'Cuz Christ knew he had no reputation worth saving. And he sure as hell had no fear of Ed's wrath coming down on _him_. If that asshole even tried to take a swing at him, Daryl would have no problem whatsoever breakin' his jaw. Hell, he was just LOOKING for the right moment to do that anyway! But no way was he gonna let Carol be put in a bad light just so he could get the bigger ' _Kick Ed's Ass_ ' plan, pulled together faster. So even though he was startin' to get an ache in his belly for doing it, Daryl pushed back at Carol yet again. And that time it had to be an out and out rejection of her kindness.

Which just made him feel like shit.

"All right," he answered while giving her a slow nod, "that was nice of ya, but I can get it cleaned up myself. So," he gestured over to the table, "why don't you put that kit down over there, and then go back outside before somebody notices you came in here again."

Even though Carol knew in her head, that Daryl was just trying to look out for her, at that moment she was just feeling this faint, pointless, sense of rejection at the things he was saying. There was also some real hurt mixed in there too, if she was honest with herself.

Though the hurt was even _more_ pointless, seeing as how she knew his intentions were good.

The latter was probably surfacing though, because for those few seconds where he'd held her close, and called her Peach, she'd felt such a peculiar sensation. Like a kindling in her chest. And it had been so many years since she'd felt that kind of awakening.

Probably thirteen or so.

Because that was the last time a man had pulled her into his arms, and whispered something sweet in her ear.

She'd forgotten how wonderful that was.

But now Daryl, for good reasons or not, was pulling away from her again. So it seemed like there would be no more tight hugs or sweet whispers from him. At least not anytime soon. Of course after all these years living in that world of violence and abuse with Ed, the idea of a man EVER treating her like that again, had sort of been on par with the idea of the dead walking the earth.

Something completely inconceivable.

It was almost worse to suddenly get a glimpse of that kind of sweetness from Daryl, to know that it was still something possible even in this new, unimaginable, hell, only to have him immediately freeze her out again.

She was just filled with a terrible sadness.

Still, she had a faint sliver of pride (or at least something like it) holding her back strong. So she just gave him a little nod, before she walked over and put the medical kit down on the table.

Then she turned to head back outside like he'd asked her to do.

Just before she put her hand on the screen though, she heard Daryl clear his throat. And then the faint murmur, "I got you some more peppermint today. I'll put it under the sink there, and you can get it later."

Her eyes immediately started to burn then. Because everything she'd just been thinking, all of those fears that he had decided to end whatever they might be building now, before it became anything more . . . he wiped them away with that one sentence.

 _"I got you some more peppermint today."_

Such a simple little sentence made her feel so happy. In another time, like the one before the world ended, he might have been bringing her wild flowers. But in this world it was herbs. Because herbs had a practical purpose. And these days, presents needed to be practical ones. It was still a way for him to show her that he cared about her though.

And that was what really mattered.

So with that point in mind, she turned to give him a watery smile.

"Thank you for doing that," she whispered.

And he looked at her for a second, before he bit his lip, and gave her a little nod. Then, with a heavy exhale, he walked over to the table and started digging through the kit she'd just put down.

"Don't forget to use the hand sanitizer on the scrape, and then the Bacitracin on the bandage," she murmured.

Then she turned and walked out the door.

Daryl lifted his head to look over his shoulder, but Carol had already disappeared by the time his eyes had reached the closing screen.

So with a faint quirk of his lip, he returned to the white plastic box. It only took him a minute to get the scrape on his forearm cleaned out, and bandaged up. It wasn't more than maybe a one by two inch piece of skin that had gotten torn up on one of the rocks, but Carol was right . . . they couldn't risk even a minor infection these days. Not with all the antibiotics gone. It was another thing like olden times.

A damn paper cut could kill ya.

And after he'd cleaned up his bits of band-aid wrappers and dumped them in the little trash bin under the sink, he put the kit away in the overhead cabinet, and then stepped outside for a second to gather up his weapons, and all the other stuff he'd tossed down before he'd run into the water. The only thing that was missing from the pile that he and Lori had left on the table, was that rabbit.

But he was figurin' one of the ladies musta brought it over to his work area.

Nobody but him and his brother knew how to skin and gut the game, but everybody did know where they did those things. And that was because their second day in, he and Merle had split a couple of logs and laid them out behind their tent like a kinda rough edged table. Daryl had set things up back there, 'cuz he figured the little ones didn't need to see him, on a daily basis, ripping the guts outta all those furry little woodland creatures. Yeah, they were gonna eat 'em for dinner . . . and everybody, kids included, sure as hell ALL got their fill of guts getting spilled now on a regular basis . . . but still, Daryl just thought it was better to not do that cleaning part right out in front of everyone, and then make 'em all eat what was left when he was done. Course Merle had called him Darlina for that one, but he didn't care. Sometimes you just gotta not be a dick about stuff.

Merle never did get that.

After Daryl got his crap sorted out though, and his belt, boots, and knives back on again, he tucked Carol's peppermint under the sink, behind the clean rag bucket. Then he slipped his gun into his waistband, his bag, bow and quiver over his shoulder, and stepped back outside.

He could see Carol and Sophia already sittin' down there by the fire.

Sophia of course was wrapped up in a blanket, and Daryl could see another dry one was draped over the chair next to her. It pained him to admit it just to himself, ('cuz it seemed kinda like a pansy-ass thing on his part), but he was definitely gonna have to wrap up in that blanket. Yeah, just being in dry clothes he was feelin' a million times better than he had been in the wet ones. But those chills and shivers that kept randomly running through his body . . . had not gone away yet. Actually, being outside again it was kinda worse. Because inside the camper, there was still some of the pent up mugginess and heat they'd been living with for days. But outside, the sun was now totally gone and as such, the temperature had probably dropped another five degrees. The leaves were startin' to fold back in the breeze too.

There were definitely gonna be some bad storms rolling through in the next hour or so.

As he walked up to the fire though, Daryl remembered yet again what Lori had said to him about bein' careful. So he chose not to take the seat that was left for him . . . the one next to Sophia, that was still too much of a direct association with Carol . . . and instead picked up his blanket, and went over to the log instead.

After he'd put his bag and weapons down, he wrapped himself up good in that thick, soft red cloth . . . he didn't know who it belonged to, but it felt real nice . . . and settled in on the rough wooden bench.

Even though the camp was busy with the sounds of everyone doing their thing, for a few seconds there was just silence there with the three of 'em, broken only by the occasional pop from the fire.

It was a bit awkward.

But then Carol pushed through that awkwardness, and she was passing him over the two mugs of dark liquid that she'd had sitting on their stump table just behind her. One of the mugs was full of the beef broth Jacqui had made, and one was full of black coffee.

One sip told him Carol had made that.

It wasn't until he'd gotten himself settled back on the log though, that Daryl realized the log really might not have been his best seatin' choice.

It was killin' his butt bone!

On an ordinary day, that wasn't even a thought in his head, but his body was still so stiff and cold, that it was uncomfortable as shit sittin' on that hard piece of wood. And it was clear his shiftin' around wasn't goin' without notice either, because he saw both Carol and Sophia givin' him a funny look. Then finally he rolled his eyes, and got up to relocate over into one of the two empty chairs left there around the pit. One was next to Carol . . . one was next to her girl.

Of course he picked the one next to Sophia.

Yet again, there was a bit of an awkward silence, but it couldn't be helped. Mostly that time it was because there were other people around, and he and Carol never spoke in front of other people. Or out in the open.

Those were hard rules before Lori had even spoken to him.

Again though, Carol was the one to smooth things out. That time she let out a sigh, and leaned over to pick up a small booklet on the ground, down under her crossed legs.

Then she and Sophia started doing a kiddy age crossword together.

Even with him trying to pretend like he was just minding his own business suckin' down his drinks, Daryl could clearly see the booklet was one of the ones he'd brought back for them from that horrible Kroger trip. There had been a whole big section of coloring and activity books down in the front of the store, just before you got to the registers.

They'd caught his attention as soon as he'd walked in the door.

Because of course with those books not bein' something people could eat, they hadn't been touched probably since before the last real _customer_ had been in that store. That was back when people still paid for things with money. Back when money was still a thing. That would've been at least five to six weeks earlier.

That's when the economy collapsed.

So while the other guys immediately moved off to see what was left on the gum and candy bar shelves . . . nothing really that he had seen . . . Daryl had gone over and grabbed a couple of each kind of the glossy activity booklets, and tossed him into his own shoulder bag.

Not the duffel one he was carrying for the group's supplies.

And he'd done that because those booklets were really more a present for Carol and Sophia direct, than the others. Yeah, he knew Carol would share the extras with Lori and Miranda for their little ones . . . and that was fine of course . . . but he'd wanted to make sure the other two got first pick on what they wanted, 'cuz he knew they never got first pick on anything.

Not with that fucker running their lives.

Yeah, the booklets were just a little thing, but he knew from experience growin' up like Sophia was now, little stuff like that mattered. And really he'd just wanted the two of them to have a present. Something all their own.

It was the first thing he found.

They seemed to really like the crossword book though. Because once they got goin', Sophia started giggling at one of the clues, and then Carol began to laugh at the giggling, and that's when Daryl began to find it VERY hard to pretend like he didn't have more than a passing interest in that woman and her little girl!

So he just made himself keep his attention on the hot drinks he was still slowly sippin' down. He was going two fisted on those cups, but they were both so damn hot, it was still taking a little while to finish 'em up.

After maybe fifteen, twenty minutes though, right after he'd put down the second of the then empty mugs, Carol got a holler from Jacqui to come over and help her get the wet blankets hung up.

With their crappy little clotheslines that was a two person job.

And after she called back that she'd be right there, Daryl slowly lifted his eyes to see Carol bitin' her lip as she looked over at him. So he gave her a nod.

Basically he was agreeing to watch her girl for her.

So once she'd given Sophia a pat on the knee, and a whisper that Daryl would keep doin' the crossword with her, Carol stood up and walked away.

That's when the silence creeped back in.

That time it was more just 'cuz he'd never said nothing direct probably to that little girl since they'd met. But after maybe a few seconds, just before he was about to speak, Sophia cleared her throat. And then she let out on a tiny whisper, "thank you for saving me."

He felt a funny burn in his chest. Because it was such a sweet thing that a little one her age, would think to say thanks for something like that. He knew that was her mama's doing though.

Even if she did have a monster for a daddy, Carol was still bringin' that girl up right.

And so he just murmured back, in the same soft tone . . . nobody more than two feet away would have known they were even speaking . . . that it was "no bother at all." Then his eyes shifted up and over, to see that girl giving him a shy little smile.

"Mama said you'd say that," she whispered. And his mouth quivered for just a second.

"Did she now?" He huffed. "Well, that's one for your mama." Then he gestures over to the short stack of booklets down by Sophia's bare foot.

Being barefoot around camp was never a good thing, not when running for their lives was so often a part of the day, but he had to figure her sneakers were still drying.

"How 'bout instead of the crossword, we do a Mad Libs?" He asked softly. And her eyes widened.

"You know Mad Libs?" She asked in surprise . . . though the words again came out in her soft, little girl, voice.

"Pfft," he scoffed while reaching over to pull the skinny blue book out of the stack, "course I do. They had these when I was little too, you know." Then his eyebrow inched up, "or did you not know?"

And she bit her lip then as she slowly shook her head. And she suddenly looked so nervous, that he felt bad for not talkin' in a softer tone. It wasn't like he'd been barkin' at her or anything, but coming up with the daddy she had, she was clearly skittish about someone thinking she was bein' contrary when she wasn't. So he made himself take a breath to soften his voice, and then he gave her a faint smile.

"It's all right not knowin' stuff," he said quietly, "'cuz that's how you learn new things." Then he tapped the cover, "so you wanna play?" And seeing her quick nod as she fidgeted a bit in the lawn chair, he passed over the booklet.

"Okay, you do the writin' part," he said while sliding it into her blanket covered lap, "better practice for ya, 'cuz you know I already know everything there is to know about proper readin' and writin'."

That was of course, a joke. And as he'd hoped, he could tell that girl heard it as such, because she immediately let out a tiny giggle. But then she quickly put her hand up to smother over it. And he hated so much that she did that. Because this new world was a terribly unhappy place, so if she could find a reason to laugh, it was wrong for her to be afraid to let it out. Or more to the point, he knew she was really just afraid she'd get a smack for bein' happy.

And that just couldn't stand.

So he leaned over, and he caught her eyes, and then he whispered, "a little gigglin' never hurt nobody, angel. So next time you don't gotta cover it up."

Then he gave her a wink, and straightened back up again.

And he could see how she stared at him for a second, before she bit down on her lip. Then she gave him another one of those bashful, sweet, little smiles.

That time her nose kind of scrunched up too.

And it wasn't 'til that moment when he realized how much she really looked like her mama. So of course, given his growin' attachment for Carol, he couldn't help how his eyes crinkled back at that miniature little version of her. But then he realized he was maybe starin' at that child who was not his, for a second or two too long . . . and he didn't wanna look like a weirdo . . . so he sobered up a bit, before reaching over to tap the cover of the activity book.

"Okay," he muttered, "let's do this."

So they started playin' a game that Daryl had not played in probably thirty years. Since he was maybe twelve years old. Twelve was kinda the last year of prime Mad Libs time. Then he'd discovered girls and boobs, and findin' ways to make sentences outta nothing but the words, "fart" and "shit" had kind of lost its special appeal. And in deference to his current forty something years, and Sophia's petite little properly crossed ankles . . . which he kinda thought was adorable . . . Daryl made sure to avoid using all the bad words he woulda used back in his youth. Still, by the time they were done with the first page, they'd built up a nice little story about a lady elephant in cowboy boots and a pink dress, riding a motorcycle down Route 66.

Sophia liked that story quite a bit.

So for the next time around, when she asked him for a verb he decided to mix it up a little. He gave her "ain't." That of course triggered another little giggle . . . that time she didn't muffle it . . . and then an amused, "but Daryl that's not a real word! Miss Applebottom said."

And his mouth started to quiver.

"You had a teacher called Miss _Apple_ bottom?" He asked, very slowly. And seeing her nod, he continued on with a twitch of his lips. "And did Miss Applebottom have a big bottom?"

That time Sophia turned BRIGHT red, right before she gave a quick look around, and then a whispered, "uh huh. Kind of." But then she quickly continued on with a bit of a disapprovin' look, "but Mama said it's not nice to make fun of the way people look."

"And your mama is right," he immediately agreed with a firm nod, even though he had of course made fun of many, MANY people, many times in his life, "it's not nice. Not at all. But sometimes," his nose wrinkled, "it's still kinda funny when people get stuck with a name like that, and then they do something just like their name. Like," he shrugged, "what if your name was Sophia Nosepicker? You'd have to be real careful not to get caught with your fingers up your nose."

For a second after he finished speakin', that little girl just stared over at him with her eyes like saucers and her jaw half open, like she couldn't believe what he'd just said. And then, to his definite amusement, she started laughin' so hard that he thought she was gonna fall right outta the chair.

Which was of course right when Carol walked back up behind them.

"What's so funny?" She asked with a smile, and Sophia dissolved into another batch of giggles. So he answered with an amused smirk, "we was just playin' Mad Libs and I was pointing out to your girl here, that sometimes people get stuck with some unfortunate last names. But," he tipped his head back to look up at the rapidly darkening sky . . . he'd just heard a faint rumble, "I think we're gonna have to stop now, 'cuz it's about to start raining."

The words had no sooner left his mouth, than a loud crack of thunder boomed almost right overhead.

Sophia's giggle immediately morphed into a terrified yelp. And without even thinking about it, he reached over to catch her hand.

"Shh, it's okay," he murmured with a squeeze of those small fingers as he started pulling her up, "it's just thunder. It can't hurt ya. But," he shot a look up to Carol . . . who looked almost as unnerved by the change in weather as her daughter, "let's get you and your mama up in the trailer where it'll be less scary."

Unfortunately he didn't even have a chance to do more than get Sophia on her feet, before another clap of thunder made her jump into his side. That time he also heard a muffled yelp from Carol. And one thing started becomin' VERY clear to him then.

The Peletier ladies did _not_ like thunderstorms!

But he could see living the life they did with dickhead, how any kind of loud noises would set them on edge. So to get them inside a little faster, after he'd thrown his bow over his shoulder, and shoved the activity books into Carol's hands, he leaned down to scoop Sophia up onto his hip with one arm, while he put his other hand out and onto Carol's shoulder.

"Come on," he muttered, "let's get you guys inside, and then I'll come back and clean up."

And though he could see how Carol wanted to say no, that she was okay, another crack overhead, just as a hard gust of wind suddenly blew through the camp, made her jump.

So she gave a quick jerk of her head.

"Okay," she blinked and reached over to pat Sophia's arm . . . the one presently hooked around his neck about as tightly as it had been when he was pulling her outta the water, "yeah, sorry, but we don't do well in storms."

"Ain't nothin' to be sorry about," he murmured, while he continued walking them up to the RV, "everybody's got their thing."

Yeah, it only taken about thirty-two _MINUTES_ for him to break his own damn rule about not touchin' or speakin' to Carol and her girl out in public! But he wasn't gonna just ignore them being scared outta their minds! Hell, Sophia was still jumping at each rumble overhead, and that was WITH him holdin' her! Still though, he didn't much want the whole camp to notice how he was carrying one of the Peletier ladies while he had his fingers curled around the shoulder of the other, so he got the three of them moved double time up the small incline.

Fortunately, with the weather definitely takin' a sharp, downward, turn . . . the cold breeze was blowing in steady now along with those cracks and rumbles of thunder . . . most everybody else was just running around trying to gather everything up, and get all the loose stuff battened down before the real winds got there.

Bottom line, lucky break, nobody seemed to be paying much attention at all to them.

Though of course right when got up to the screen door, that was when Lori came hurrying around the front corner of the RV, with her backpack on her shoulder, and Shane's bag of spare ammo in her hands.

She was pushing Carl just ahead of her.

And the two of them, him and Lori that is, briefly made eye contact just before he yanked the door open. After he'd set Sophia down on her bare feet on the dirty linoleum, he lifted Carl up in next to her, and then turned back to the two women.

"Anything down by the quarry that needs to be grabbed up?" He asked with worried brow.

They both immediately shook their heads.

"No," Lori spoke first, "just the milk crates are down there, but if they blow away we can live without them." Her eyes bounced back across their small compound . . . over to where the wind had started to rustle the tents.

"I grabbed up as much of the wet laundry as I could, and threw it in our tent before I sealed it up but," her eyes darted back up to Daryl's, "I forgot to grab your rabbit off the stump."

"Yeah, okay," he murmured, "I'll get it when I seal my place up."

And before Carol could say anything . . . he could see her mouth starting to open . . . he shot her a look.

"I'll get yours too," he muttered while shoving his bow and quiver into her hands.

Then, with the wind beginning to ruffle that red blanket still wrapped around his upper body . . . until then he'd almost forgot he was wearing it . . . he took off at a run across the compound.

The air was getting colder, and the sky was gettin' darker, by the passing seconds.

And knowin' time was not on his side, the first thing he did was go to Carol's tent. That's where he poked his head in to grab up her bag, off what was clearly her and Sophia's side of the tent. Then he shot a look of disgust over to the green duffel jammed up next to the other sleeping bag.

Yeah . . . Daryl tossed Carol's bag over his shoulder . . . fuck Ed's shit.

And for a second he was just pissed enough thinking about that ugly mother and what he was doin' to Carol and her girl, that Daryl was tempted to simply toss that duffel outside onto the ground, just to make sure everything in it would get soaked. It was only a passing fancy though, 'cuz he knew Carol woulda been the one to catch hell for that.

Even if he was the one who woulda been responsible.

So with a faint grunt, he pushed the thought aside to instead just zip the whole tent back up. After that, he pulled down the flaps and tied them off to keep the inside of the canvas watertight. Then as a total afterthought, he decided to do a quick check of the posts. And he only did _that_ 'cuz Ed was an idiot, and it was entirely possible he'd only smacked 'em down halfway, and the whole damn tent was gonna fly off like the house in the Wizard of Oz, the second those heavy winds showed up.

And oh yeah . . . Daryl rolled his eyes as he made the final circle . . . sure enough, one of the back posts was sticking about an inch too far outta the ground.

Fuckin' moron.

So he picked up a rock, and while he was picturing Ed's face on the bottom side of it, smacked that metal spike the rest of the way down into the earth. Then from there, with the cold wind now startin' to really catch the edges of the blanket, Daryl threw the rock down, and ran across to his own area of the compound. That's when he grabbed up his rabbit . . . meals were too scarce to be tossin' out any game . . . and sealed up his own tent.

Though before he did the zipperin' and flaps, he did also poke his head inside to grab up his and Merle's bags. And he was doing that, grabbing everyone's bags that is, JUST in case, a fuckin' tornado dropped outta the sky. Or even _more_ worse case, if the storm somehow blew in a parade of walkers, and they all had to just run like hell.

Basically it was just best to always have your crap and be ready to run like hell.

Once he had everything he, (and Carol and her girl) might need though, with the icy, cold, drops just startin' to fall down onto his neck, Daryl ran back across the slippery grass and over to the camper.

It'd been maybe five or six minutes since he'd left it, and he got back there just in time to see Andrea passin' the last of the lawn chairs through the door and up to Amy, standing there inside.

She was shuffling 'em off to T-Dog.

And when Andrea turned around, clearly somewhat startled by him runnin' up on her outta nowhere, he shoved all the bags . . . plus dead rabbit . . . into her now empty hands.

"I'll get the awning," he let out on a grunt, because even under the circumstances, it was still hard to work up a civil tone for that woman.

She just rubbed him the wrong way.

The feeling was pretty much mutual though. 'Cuz he could see how her response to him shovin' his stuff into her hands, was for her mouth start to drop . . . she was about to say something that was gonna piss him off . . . but then she seemed to think better of it.

Because her jaw snapped shut.

"Right," she muttered, with a slightly furrowed brow down to the dead animal in her hands, "okay."

So while she turned and disappeared up inside the camper, with a cold sheet of rain startin' to pelt him in the face, Daryl hurried over to roll back the awning. Because the LAST damn thing they needed, was a gust to get under that canvas. Not only for the simple reason it would just tear the damn thing off, but with a bad enough wind, it could knock the RV off kilter enough, that the whole thing ended up blowing over onto its side.

And then they'd be right fucked.

But after he got that thing rolled up, and snapped down, he knew that short of an actual downburst or full on tornado, they should stay upright through whatever was coming. And so he turned, squinting through the falling water, to do a quick, final, look around their compound, for any other potential issues that hadn't been dealt with.

But it seemed like everybody had done their part to get ready.

Among other things, all the clothes were taken in, the buckets and pans and other doo dads were gone, and the chairs had disappeared to wherever they'd been tucked. So Daryl figured their group was about as prepared for their first big storm, as they were gonna get.

It was just when he had that thought, that a chunk of frozen ice about the size of a golf ball, scraped down the side of his cheek. His hand immediately shot up to smack into his face.

HOLY SHIT! That fucker BURNED! So yeah . . . he spun around on his heel . . . it was definitely time to get his ass through the door!

Though that time when he went up the two steps and over the threshold, for the first time since he'd met Dale and his thirty something year old RV, not only did Daryl grab for the screen door, but also the heavy outside one too.

Just as he was pullin' it shut though, a fresh gust ripped it out of his fingers, and the whole thing ended up slamming into place.

And it was a LOUD ass slam!

Loud enough that he heard a few startled swear words, so he ended up gruntin' out a "sorry," to whoever the hell was in the vicinity. And the vicinity was quite full up. And gettin' hot.

Even though his head was again damp enough to keep him cool.

But even with the four guys still out on the gas run . . . they had be holed up somewhere themselves by now, waitin' out the weather . . . Dale's camper was pretty well jammed with folks. You didn't really think of the place as bein' small, until you threw fourteen, fifteen people into it.

Strange enough though, looking around after he'd tossed the wet blanket over the back of the passenger side seat, Daryl didn't see Carol and Sophia jammed up anywhere in that mix of bodies still shuffling to find places to settle.

As he moved forward past the sink though, cuttin' between the littlest of the Morales kids, Lori suddenly reached out from her place perched on the edge of the bench seat, to tap his arm. And when his eyes shot down to hers, he saw her mouth the word, ' _bathroom.'_ Then, before he could react to that, she'd put her hand on his forearm to pull herself up. That was necessary because simply 'standin'' wasn't so easy in that crowd.

 _Cramped_ didn't even begin to cover the place right then.

But she came to her feet for only a second, just to whisper something in his ear.

"I wouldn't ordinarily recommend it," she murmured, "but I think you should go check on them. They weren't doing well at all with the thunder. They're probably doing worse now with the wind."

Then she dropped back down next to Carl, and gave Daryl one of those looks of hers. The kind where he knew what she was asking was more an order, than a real request. Sometimes he found that to be a bit annoying. But in this case, given who they were talkin' about, he wasn't taking no offense at it. She was just tryin' to look out for Carol and her girl.

Same as him.

So his jaw clenched once, right before he gave her back a tight nod. Then he turned to finish cutting through the Morales family all huddled around. And after he gave a quick glance back through the grey light, to Dale, T-Dog and the Harrison sisters, all in the sleeping area, chattin' and starin' out the windows, he came to a halt in the middle of that short 'front/back' connectin' corridor.

That's when he made two sharp knocks on the bathroom door.

It was a bit hard to hear over all the others with their nervous talking . . . and the storm itself now starting to blow in hard against the camper walls and roof . . . but he was pretty sure he got a "come in," from what sounded like Carol.

He squinched himself back a bit, so he could open the door.

Then, with Jim and Jacqui trying to scoot past him to get down to Dale and the others . . . apparently the basic breakdown was gonna be single grownups in the back of the RV, kids and parents in the front . . . Daryl quickly hustled himself through the bathroom doorway, and into that small space.

He let the door itself fall shut behind him.

Once he was inside, there was barely room to take more than two, three, steps. But those steps weren't even needed for him to see that Carol and Sophia were definitely hiding in there. To be precise, they were hiding in that tiny little shower. The two of 'em were sitting there on the floor, huddled together, with Sophia's yellow blanket now wrapped up around them both.

Then he saw his bow and quiver were tucked there in the corner next to Carol's arm.

And for some reason that touched him, that she would keep his weapons right with her. After all, she coulda just left them out in the front with the small pile of bags and other personal items that were stacked up around the front seats. Instead though, she'd decided to hold onto his stuff, until he got back to retrieve it himself.

That was more of her being sweet.

So he stooped down and put his palm flat out on the rough edged wall to brace himself . . . just like out in front, it was hard to get good balance in a place where you could barely turn around . . . right before he raised his eyebrow.

"How you guys doin'?" He whispered.

With the door shut, no electricity, and the sunlight that'd been coming through the semi-transparent overhead vent, now totally gone to near black, it had gotten so dark in that little space, that it was just shadows. Still though, he could clearly see Carol and Sophia lookin' up at him, both with tears in their eyes. Lori had been right.

They were NOT doing well at all.

And before Carol could do more than bite her lip at his question . . . he was pretty sure the next word out of her mouth was gonna be a, "no" . . . something flew into the side of the trailer, just ahead of them. There was a sudden, alarmed, increase in the chatter outside the bathroom door, at the exact moment that Sophia's teary eyes, suddenly spilled over.

Then she started to cry.

And seeing how Carol's face twisted with pain as she pulled her girl a little closer into her side, and murmured, "it's okay honey, it's okay," at those muffled sobs, kind of made his chest hurt. Then his teeth ground together for a second, before he let out a faint sigh.

"If you two smoosh up a bit closer, I could sit there with ya," he shrugged, "if that's somethin' you might want."

There wasn't really much space at all in that shower, but given how one of the three of them was just a little person, and they were all wasting away from eatin' only the bare minimum each day, he knew if Sophia sat in Carol's lap, he'd fit just fine.

Ordinarily of course he wouldn't make such an offer, not with most of the camp right outside the door, but at times, some things mattered less than others. And one thing that made it matter less, was because Ed was still gone. And clearly nobody else was gonna think he and Carol were doin' anything 'inappropriate,' if Sophia was in there with them.

Also at that point, he woulda felt like a real scumbag leaving the two of 'em hidin' in there alone, when they were clearly scared to death. Because even with it bein' so dark, he could see how Carol's eyes were much too shiny when she gave him a grateful smile at his offer to stay.

"We'd like that," she whispered, "thank you."

So she and the sniffling Sophia, shuffled around until Carol was sitting cross legged, and Sophia was in her mama's lap. Then Daryl twisted around, and shimmied in, to drop down in there next to Carol. Once his head was pressed back against the smooth tile, he pulled his knees up in front of him. It was a bit tight, but not too bad.

At least the company was good.

Course that's when Daryl realized, if it weren't for the fact that Carol was wrapped up in that blanket, the two of them woulda been pressed up right together all the way down one side. As it was, it was probably a lot better they had that bit of fuzzy cloth for a buffer. It made the physical contact between seem more innocent.

Kinda.

Though he could still feel that warmth from her body, and smell that faint bit of flowers that came off her hair . . . she was still the only one with good shampoo . . . and he was definitely okay with both those things happenin'.

He did hate though how Sophia was still crying.

Wasn't nothin' to be done about that though. At least not on his part. Her mama was there with her, and that was about all the comfort that was gonna be had for that girl until the storm was done.

In the meantime he just sat there with them, listening to the rain and hail beatin' down overhead, and the wind starting to whistle outside the small window.

And then, maybe, five, six minutes later, when there was another big crack from the thunder, right when the trailer started a steady rock back and forth from the wind . . . the gusts had to have just kicked up to a good thirty or forty miles per hour . . . he heard Sophia let out another whimper, right before Carol bit down a moan.

He winced at that.

So even though Daryl was tryin' to mentally keep things somewhat detached in there . . . he kept telling himself he didn't have anybody to sit with out in the front anyway, so this was just a place for him to be . . . hearing that moan, triggered something in him.

Something he couldn't ignore.

And that's when he found himself sliding his hand off his own leg, to move it over and cover Carol's thigh. And almost immediately, he felt her fingers fumble into his. So he turned his hand over, palm side up . . . and laced them together.

It was a bad move on his part, of that he had no doubt. Really, there were twenty reasons right there on the top of his head, breaking down how it was a TERRBLE idea, for him to be holding hands with a married lady who had a violent psychopath for a husband.

But he was ignoring all that right then.

Not just for Carol's sake . . . clearly she needed the contact . . . but also for his own. 'Cuz it'd been so long since he'd held hands with _any_ woman, he'd forgot how nice it was. And then take from that, this was a person in particular, that he had been growin' more and more fond of, day by day, and it was hard to muster up any real care about all the reasons he should just let her go. Besides that though, he was only planning on holdin' her hand for the length of the one quick storm. And that was fifteen, twenty more minutes tops.

'Cept it wasn't.

A quick storm that is. Because the weather had been boiling for days, so there was a lotta pent up energy in the air, and that storm just kept raging on and on. Yeah, the rain and hail would let up for a bit, and the winds would die down, and for a few minutes it would seem like they were moving towards done . . . and then it would all start again. Truth be told, aside from the real possibility of a tornado dropping out of the sky . . . this was still the popular time of the year for 'em . . . the hail was worrying Daryl more than anything. 'Cuz those sounded like some BIG ass chunks of ice falling. The kind that could be tearing huge holes through their tents.

Or breaking all the glass on the cars.

And the tents and cars were all the shelter they had. Well, aside from the RV of course. But clearly just them all piling inside to stay safe from the storm, had proved that place was not big enough for their group to actually all SLEEP in there together. He scowled.

They'd have to be hangin' like bats from the ceiling.

Well whatever, he thought with a roll of his eyes and another squeeze of Carol's hand, there wasn't nothing to be done about it now anyway. If they walked outside to find everything all broken up and torn to hell, they'd deal with it.

Somehow.

It was just then, moving up on maybe up on about forty plus minutes or so since he'd come into the trailer, that Daryl felt Carol suddenly let out a heavy breath. And then a murmur of, "Sophia cried herself to sleep."

"Hmm," he hummed back, while slowly running his thumb along the inside of her wrist, "and how are you doin'?"

For a second there was nothin' but quiet from Carol . . . and then he heard her clear her throat. And after that, very faintly, "I'm better with you."

The words came out in sort of a halting way. And Daryl knew in his bones that woman wasn't just talking about her feelings related to the storm. For a second though, he didn't know what to say back to that. Because he wasn't expectin' her to be so open with her words.

That wasn't his way.

But when he felt her body start to stiffen up, right when she began to pull her hand away from his, he knew he'd paused too long. And now she was embarrassed.

Shit.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, while tightening his fingers around hers so she'd stop scrinchin' away, "I've just never been good with talkin' about things, especially things like this. But seein' as you might be different on that point," he bit his lip, "I'll just say it flat out." He turned to give her a look then, only to find there were fresh tears in her eyes.

"I like you, Peach," he continued on, softly with a light squeeze of her fingers, "I like you quite a bit."

She didn't say anything back to that. Not out loud anyway. She just blinked, and one of those tears spilled over, and slid down her cheek.

Then she looked away.

And a second later when she looked back at him, she seemed so sad it just broke his heart. So he reached up, and brushed his thumb along the lower curve of her lip. And he was just about to open his mouth again . . . to say what, he didn't quite know . . . when there was a sharp knock on the door.

And then Lori.

"I'm coming in."

Even as his hand away from her mouth, and back to his knee, the door was whipping open. Then there was the tense face of the pretty brunette.

She was waving her hand at him.

"We just heard the car," she hissed, "the others are back."

And even as he heard Carol suck in a tight breath at his side, Daryl was jumping to his feet. Because he absolutely could NOT be found in the bathroom there with the Peletier ladies!

They would pay dearly for that.

So with Lori still holding the door . . . though now throwing an anxious look over her shoulder and down towards the front of the RV . . . Daryl reached back to grab his bow and quiver. Then with one last worried look down at Carol, who would not look up at him, he brushed past Lori's thin frame, and out into the little hall.

"Go in the back," she muttered to him even while she was waving Jacqui forward from the bedroom doorway, "Jacqui's going to go in and sit with Carol and Sophia so he won't find them alone."

Realizing then that the women had already worked this out on their own . . . they were a crafty bunch, he'd sure as hell give 'em that . . . Daryl just did as he was told, and slipped down to the sleeping area in the back.

Even with Jacqui passing by him going the other way, there still wasn't much space in there with five other grown folks still sitting around. And they were all giving him some looks rangin' from worried to just straight tense. So he knew that his presence in there with Carol and Sophia had not gone unnoticed.

It had _probably_ , actually been the topic of some conversation.

Any other day that woulda pissed him off, and he likely woulda said something to those people, that woulda been best left unsaid. But on that day, he was just too worried himself about Carol catchin' hell from Ed, to let himself get caught up in any kind of pride nonsense.

So he just settled down onto the floor between the two beds, with his weapons in his lap. Then he leaned his back against the wall, and dropped his head down into his hands.

He started rubbing his temples.

It was just when he heard the bathroom door fall shut again . . . Jacqui slipping inside . . . that the heavy door in the front of the RV, suddenly was whipped wide open. Even though he wasn't looking out there to see it happen, there was no mistaking the noise.

Because suddenly the storm was LOUD AS FUCK!

And with basically almost everybody else yelling some variation of, "hurry up and get inside," Shane, Merle, Glen, and Ed, tromped up one after the other, and into the trailer.

The sounds of their shoes were squishing on the floor.

The only one of that group of course who Daryl had much personal interest in was Merle. But he could hear from the way his brother was bitchin' about the rain . . . and a tree nearly falling on the car while they were speeding back . . . that he was just as fine now as he was when he left camp. And he wasn't asking about Daryl . . . he hardly ever did . . . so Daryl made no move to go see him. He just stayed there on the floor, with his head down, listenin' to the all the voices.

Most specifically the new ones that had just folded themselves into the general din.

The loud, sarcastic, bellows of Merle, the soft murmurs of Glen . . . the quiet, though good humored whispers of Shane talkin' to Carl and Lori. And then lastly, there was Ed. There was nothing soft or good humored about him. When he talked it was always more like a bark. A junkyard dog that should be tied up on a choke collar and a chain, that's what he was. The kinda mutt that you always ended up having to put down in the end.

Because it was just too mean to be around people.

And that mutt today, he was barkin' about his clothes being wet. And himself being hungry. And then it was him yelling at Shane for dragging him out to get gas, when there wasn't no gas to be got. Of course as soon as Shane started yelling back at him that this was just how life was now, that sometimes they came back empty handed, and he'd know that if got off his ass more often, Ed switched gears. He started barkin' about Carol then.

He wanted to know where the fuck she was.

And for a second all the other talking died down. Because you didn't need to be a fucking rocket scientist to see that Ed was looking to release some of his anger at Shane, out on Carol instead.

Because that was just the kind of pathetic piece of crap he was.

And when after that brief pause, Lori quietly (and with some clear reluctance) informed Ed that Carol and Sophia were in the bathroom, Ed made sort of an ugly sound. Kinda like a laugh, but not really, before he muttered something Daryl couldn't hear all that clear.

But it had to do with thunder and Carol being, a quote, "frightened little bitch."

That was about the point where Daryl was ready to get up off that dirty floor, and go bash Ed's face in with the butt of his crossbow. But he made himself stay still. And quiet.

Because this wasn't the time.

For one thing there was no room for a fight. Not unless he was gonna take it outside. And the weather still wasn't safe to be rolling around out in the mud. He'd get electrocuted. Or he'd have his skull cracked by one of those chunks of hail.

Either way he would not be at his peak for fighting.

Besides that though, as long as Carol and Sophia were in were with Jacqui, and the whole rest of the camp piled in these two rooms around them, that meant they were physically safe from Ed. At least for the moment.

The moment wasn't gonna last though.

Daryl knew that put up or shut up was comin' fast. Really, tomorrow probably was gonna hafta be D-Day. Whether he could get Merle on board to help him or not, Daryl was gonna need to step up and put that junkyard dog, _down._ It was gonna be that or just accept he was gonna stand by like a coward and a bitch, while this woman who was starting to really mean something to him, took another beatin' from that asshole. So yeah . . . he nodded to himself . . . tomorrow for sure.

It had to be done.

In the meantime though, he just stayed there in the back, sitting on the floor, and building up a HELL of a head of steam over Ed Peletier and his general, continued, existence on the planet. And that was all while the Harrison sisters whispered there up on the bed next to him, and the storms just kept rolling along.

The rain finally stopped sometime late afternoon.

It was probably around four, four thirty, when they were finally done completely. Daryl knew this because when the sun broke through again, and burned off the last of the clouds, he was able to read the length of the shadows to get the time.

That was just something that he did.

So when everyone moved to pile outta that (by then) well overheated camper . . . twenty people in a small metal box had at least knocked out the last of his chills . . . Daryl angrily snatched up his bag and his dead rabbit, and took off for his little work area across the compound. In part that was his destination because he needed to clean that game for dinner, but really, he was in just the right temper to be tearing the guts outta something that used to be warm and breathing.

He was pretending that fluffy little bunny was Ed.

Which was why he kinda took his time with the skinning, while the others went about picking up the camp. From what he'd seen walking through the mud, the damage hadn't been too bad anyway. Lots of leaves and branches had blown in, and needed to be carried back out, but with the exception of a few dents in the metal, the cars at least seemed to be hole free, and the tents hadn't gotten torn up at all.

That was a borderline, pure miracle.

One that Daryl pondered some, while he got the rabbit cleaned out. Once he had it prepped though, he brought it down to the fire pit, expectin' he'd see Carol around there somewhere with the other women, cleaning up their outside kitchen area, and setting up for dinner.

Except she wasn't there.

And he wanted to ask about her, to make sure Ed hadn't somehow done something else to her already, but he was afraid to bring more attention to their relationship. Because more attention, could just cause her more problems. And he wasn't in that mental place yet where he knew for sure how exactly he was gonna make those problems go away.

At least not for good.

So he just passed the carcass off to Jacqui, who muttered something about using a can of vegetables and making a stew with it. Then he went inside the trailer, bypassing Lori who was digging in the cabinets, to get his small blue bag of Cool Ranch Doritos out of the overhead, where Carol had hid them the day earlier. Yeah, there was good meat for dinner, but he wasn't anywhere near in the right mood for a sit down meal with the group.

He'd had MORE than enough group time that day!

Which was why, after he'd angrily scarfed down his chips while standing there in the middle of the small RV kitchen, he muttered something (in a bit of a pissy tone) to Lori, about having a headache and not wanting anybody to be botherin' him about dinner. She just turned to give him a soft look and a faint nod, before she went back to the yellow plate sitting there on the counter.

It was like she was expectin' that tone from him, and even maybe understood where it was comin' from, so she wasn't taken no offense at it.

Then she picked up a big knife and started chopping up the canned carrots.

For a second he just stared over at her making those big chunks of vegetables into little ones. If he was a different kinda person, he mighta tried to talk to her then. To explain the worries on his mind about Carol, and this beatdown he knew he needed to give her husband.

And the fallout there would be for everyone after that.

It was a lot of stress on his brain, and a lot of tension in his body. And there was a part of him that knew Lori, if he'd asked her to, probably would've helped him work through some of it. Not that they were friends, he didn't have those, but she was levelheaded. Not to mention she was the one who had suggested doing something about Ed to start. But it really wasn't in him to talk about his problems. Generally he just got mad and blustered about things that weren't related to the real issue.

Like his bitching about dinner right now, for instance.

Of course on his better days, and in his better moods, he knew that wasn't the best way to deal with stuff. But it was the Dixon way. And after forty-one years of bein' a Dixon, Daryl was kinda worried he was too old to change those ways now.

Even if he might want to.

So with nobody else around for him to be pissy with . . . a good argument woulda released some of his stress, but everyone but Lori seemed to be giving him a wide berth . . . he decided to go back to his tent to lie down. His head was hurtin', that wasn't a lie, and he was also pretty tired. That one was a little weird, because mostly he'd just been sitting around all day.

It was really the least amount of moving he'd done in months.

But maybe it was just stress making him tired. And at least he didn't have to put up with Merle hanging around the tent. Not when he'd made his open announcement (while they were all piling out of the RV) that he was goin' off with his bag of magic pills, to get high down by the quarry. Now given how Daryl had _wanted_ to talk to him about the Ed beat down and the help he needed with it, that plan hadn't really been music to his ears. And that was because he knew the Ed conversation was now gonna have to wait until morning. But Daryl knew better than to get in the way of Merle getting high.

That's how a person got a black eye.

So Daryl tried to just go with it. And he couldn't deny that without Merle around, Merling shit up, it was nice and quiet there in the tent, under their canvas roof. And after so many hours of so much noise being made by both people and nature, the quiet was good.

It settled his nerves a bit.

It also helped (a lot) that the storms had blown out the humidity for the day. So even with the sun back out, the air was nice and dry. And at some point laying there all alone in that quiet, cool air . . . Daryl passed out. And when he woke up again, it was dark. Real dark. From across the tent he could hear Merle snoring like a buzz saw, so he figured it had to be proper sleeping time by then. Which was strange, 'cuz nobody had called him to cover his walker shift on the roof. And that started at eight.

And it was _way_ too dark . . . and much too quiet . . . to be still be that early in the night.

So with a bit of a scrunch of confusion in his brow, he pulled on his weapons, and climbed outta the tent. When he tipped his head back, and looked up to the position of the stars relative to the time of year, he knew the time had to be somewhere much closer to midnight than eight pm. And with his bladder very much uncomfortably full . . . he hadn't taken a piss since he'd gotten up that morning like twenty plus hours earlier . . . he walked across the compound, and over to the RV.

He could see Jim up on the roof.

"Hey man," he called up softly, "who took my shift?"

And Jim got up out of the sand chair, to walk over to the edge of the roof. Then he stooped down to whisper back.

"T-Dog. He said if you got up, and you want, you can take his at four. But if you're still tired, you could just owe him one later."

For a second Daryl just stood there, frowning in confusion. This was all very strange information to be gettin'.

And none of it made any sense to him.

"But why didn't somebody just wake me at eight?" He finally muttered back with a slightly aggravated wave of his arm, "I wasn't dead, I was just sleepin'."

That time Jim shrugged.

"Lori pulled me and Shane and T-Dog aside, and said you'd had the chills after jumping in the quarry, so we should let you rest as long as you needed to, so you didn't get sick." Then Jim huffed a bit before his lip quirked up, "because really brother, out of all of us, we can't afford to have _you_ get laid up. We'd be pretty screwed. So," he shrugged again, "we just said okay, and that was that."

After hearin' that, Daryl blinked as he looked down. And when he looked back up again, he had to swallow over a faint lump in his throat.

"All right," he grunted, "uh, thanks, I guess. And um," he waved his hand a bit, "you can pass it along that I'll cover T-Dog at four, so we'll be evened up. I'll uh," he shot a look over his shoulder, "well, I guess I'll tell him now so he don't hafta get up later."

"Okay," Jim nodded as he slowly came back to his feet, "whatever you want."

So with a final tip of his head, he turned and walked back to his chair.

Just before he turned to sit, Daryl threw out one last question.

"What time is it?"

"About eleven thirty," Jim tossed over his shoulder, right before he dropped back down onto the sand chair.

And as he moved to pick up the rifle again, Daryl let out a satisfied grunt of acknowledgement at the time. Because even just goin' by starlight, he was only off by twenty or so minutes.

Damn he was good.

So with that little perk of satisfaction in his head, Daryl turned to go off to T-Dog's tent across the yard. And after he'd popped inside and woke the guy up to tell him he could sleep 'til morning . . . and in the process gave him an awkward thanks for coverin' his earlier shift . . . Daryl went off into the bushes, to finally take that piss.

It was when he wasn't until he was comin' back outta the trees, that he caught the sounds of some splashin' coming up from the quarry. Things tended to echo from there. So he slipped his bow down from his shoulder, and detoured himself off to take a look to find out what was going on. Because he had images of a walker stumbling in down there, and contaminating their main source of water.

And that's all they woulda fuckin' needed.

But a walker is not what he found. Even when he was still a good thirty paces back, just on the cusp of the grassy terrain turnin' to rocks, there was enough moonlight reflecting up off the quarry water for him to see for sure that it wasn't no dead person splashing around down there.

It was Carol.

She was down on her knees, with her hands in the water . . . and damn if it didn't look like she was doin' laundry. Daryl's brow wrinkled.

At a half hour shy of midnight.

Yeah, that was kinda weird. Still though, there was a small part of him thinkin' that weird or not, he should just keep on walking back to his tent. Because the woman was _entitled_ to do laundry in the dead of night if she wanted to. Because it was possible she was just tryin' to work off some tension. Or just get the hell away from her husband for a few minutes.

Like this was maybe her new version of, "going downstairs to pace."

In his mind these were some valid points he was makin', but still he just kept walking forward down towards the water. Because even if she was just looking to "pace," he couldn't let her be out here like this all alone.

Not this late at night.

It was right then that he heard her sniffle. And his jaw clenched as he slowly shook his head.

Fuck.

That was the only word that came to him, because suddenly he knew she wasn't just over there working off tension, or just trying to get a moment's peace by herself. No, she was out because of Ed. Daryl's jaw clenched.

That motherfuckin' piss bucket, piece of shit.

So with a heavy sigh that she'd had to spend this one last evening with him and whatever the hell he had done to upset her, Daryl continued on through the grass, headin' over to the edge of the quarry that he'd crawled up outta like the Creature From the Black Lagoon, barely twelve hours earlier. And he woulda thought Carol had heard him coming . . . it's not like boots on loose shale was stealth mode or nothing . . . but then he noticed that she hadn't lifted her head up yet. And realizin' then that maybe she was too distracted with whatever was on her mind to be payin' attention like she shoulda been . . . a point he'd be bringing up with her at a point where she wasn't sitting there cryin' in the dark . . . he whispered her name.

"Carol."

He was only about five paces back then.

And it was clear that when he spoke, soft though the word mighta been, he scared the absolute CRAP out of her! Because she started to spin around, but unfortunately with the way she was crouched down . . . she lost her balance.

She started to tumble backwards into the water.

It was only the shallow part there, but one trip into the drink a day was enough for the Peletier ladies, so even while she was still lettin' out a startled yelp, Daryl was already bolting forward those last five steps on a sprint.

And before she actually fell into the water, somehow he managed to catch her by the wrist (the non-busted one) with just one hand, while he skidded himself to a stop on the same bit of loose rock that she'd just slipped on. Then he gave that wrist a hard yank to pull her close enough for him to slide his arm around her waist. After that, he tugged her back a few steps away from the water, and she fell forward against his chest.

And as she clutched onto his shirt, and let out his name on a faint whimper, he found himself holding her even tighter. Because he could tell from how she was shaking there in his arms, that whatever had driven her out on this night, was worse than last night. And the way she was clutching onto him, with her breath comin' so fast and uneven, it was a real kick in the gut.

It was like she was just straight up scared to death.

And that made him feel sick. So he gave her almost minute, with her face pressed against his chest, while he slowly rubbed his hand up and down her back. But then she let out another whimper, that one clearly of pain, and he knew for sure that she was hurt. So he finally asked, in the softest tone he had in him, "what did he do to you, Peach?"

The words were whispered to the top of her head. And he could hear her sniffle and he could feel her swallow . . . but she didn't speak. And she still wouldn't look up.

He hadn't seen her face yet at all.

At that point every instinct Daryl had was screaming at him to go up and put a bullet in Ed's brain. He didn't even need to know exactly what had been done to Carol, it was enough that that piss bucket had hurt her again.

That was reason enough to kill him.

Because there was something about this woman. It was like when they'd met, somehow Daryl had gotten a string caught around his finger.

And the other end of it was attached to her.

There wasn't anybody else he'd ever met, who'd made him feel that way before. It was like they'd known each other for years, even though he was near positive they'd never even crossed paths before that week. But whether he'd known her for a week, or a lifetime, her being hurt and him not doing nothin' about it, wasn't a state of being that could stand. He did try to be patient, because he didn't want to upset her worse than she was. But when she still hadn't answered him after another minute, he found himself bringing one of the hands he had on her back, up to touch her jaw.

All he was trying to do was tip her head back, so he could see her face . . . but that move caused her to break out in a sob of pain. And he winced and closed his eyes.

Because yet again Ed did the damage, and he caused the hurt.

"I'm sorry, Peach," he murmured, as his hand slipped down to her shoulder, and his other one started gently rubbing her back again, "I didn't know that's where he hurt you. But can you just let me see it? Please."

It took a second, one where he heard her sucking in a harsh, raggedy breath . . . he didn't much like the sound of her breathing at all, there was something off . . . but then finally she tipped her head back.

That's when his own breath caught.

Because even in the muted moonlight, he could see that the whole left side of her face, that included her cheek up to her eye socket, was a dark, purpley color. And there was fresh, sticky, blood under her nose, and around her mouth. Really there were red speckles all over her face. Her shirt was surprisingly clean though, for all that mess. That's when his eyes dropped down to see what she'd been washing. And Daryl realized it was her nightgown down there crumpled up on the rocks.

The whole front of it was splattered in blood.

"I didn't want the other women to see me washing it tomorrow," Carol whispered with a crackle in her voice, "it would've been too embarrassing."

And hearing that, Daryl winced and closed his eyes, because of course that would be her first thought. Not one for getting herself bandaged up.

But just what the others would think of the mess.

And God did he wish he could say he didn't understand that thought, but he'd started scrubbin' out his own blood stains when he was seven years old. It was always the first place your mind went.

To the embarrassment of it all.

Still though, it broke his heart to find Carol out here like this now. So when he opened his eyes again, to see the tears filling hers, he brought his hand up to gently cup the side of her face. This time to the one without the bruises.

Then he brushed his thumb along her skin, as he let out a heavy sigh.

"Oh, Carol, what in the hell happened?"

* * *

 _A/N 2: This took forever to proof, for two random reasons. A) I've been ridiculously exhausted for no apparent reason, and B) my thumbitis is acting up. It's like tendonitis, but just in your thumbs, and it aches like a bastard. So you literally just lose the whole 'human with opposable digits' thing, and it's very hard to type with no thumbs. Try it :) So I proofed the last five pages smacking the keyboard like a monkey. Good times!_

 _Anyway! Clear progression here obviously in their relationship. I kept trying to keep season one Daryl very clear in my head for all of these scenes. Like him being pissy and blustery when he's stressed, but at the same time he knows (because he's much smarter than he's given initial credit for being) that acting out like that doesn't do him any good, but he worries he's too old to change his behavior. And how he wouldn't come out and tell Carol that he likes her, until he was pushed into it by her saying something first and it was hurting her for him to not respond. And lastly that sense of him being very confused and sort of touched, that the others would do something as simple as just letting him sleep because they knew he was stressed and tired over the situation with Carol. They were being kind and he didn't know how to process that beyond awkwardness._

 _Again in this story, also starting to work in a bit of a special relationship between him and Sophia too. But I feel like here where the more obvious bond of the abusive background tying him to the 'ladies,' that it would be easier for him to find an inroad with Sophia. Especially now that he's saved her, she trusts him in the same way that Carol does. Which is in a way that the others don't yet. But that's why I knocked into the quarry…fast bonding ;) And I could see them playing Mad Libs together, and Daryl purposely building her a story with a girl elephant in a pink dress and cowboy boots riding a motorcycle down the highway. It just seemed very him. And here you see his nickname for Sophia will be 'angel.'_

 _Lastly, general note, I have NOT stopped writing any of my TWD stories. I know it might seem like things are falling to the side, but I've just lost a lot of my previous writing time with this new job. So all updates are slowing :( Sorry. Realistic bar is hopefully going to be one chapter a month for each story. If I can get up more than that (and Cedar Forest is the easiest one to keep falling into), then we'll throw the confetti in the air :)_

 _Thanks everyone!_


	6. The Levee Breaks

**Author's Note** : Fair warning, pulling some sensitive canon elements into this one. But we're also taking a twist with things as well, because for as much as we could maybe see some of these as missing scenes from before the cameras showed up, we are technically on an AU. So I'll explain some of my decisions here at the end.

And curious, writing this chapter, I realized that Daryl and Carol have now known each other about as long in this story, as they have over in This Is Now. Though this one is at six chapters, to the nineteen over there :) Still, their relationship is trucking along in both worlds, and it's about to get a hard kick forward in this one.

Direct continuation.

* * *

 _Days 5-6_

 **The Levee Breaks**

The level of rage Daryl was feelin' then, at seeing Carol beaten and bruised like that, wasn't one he could even measure. But while he waited for her story . . . and he knew there'd be a story . . . he made sure to hide all that from her.

Because on top of whatever all the rest was, she didn't need to put up with his crap right now too.

Though no matter the story she told, and he could see her now swallowin' as one of the tears slipped down her face, he knew there would be no actual 'reason' for her condition . . . the reason was 'because Ed' . . . but still, there had to have been somethin' to set that piss bucket motherfucker, off. And Daryl wanted to know what that somethin' was. Partly just to know, but _mostly_ just to see if it was a thing that coulda been avoided. Like if it'd had to do with _him_ , for instance.

'Cuz that was the cold fear in his belly right now.

That somehow he held a piece of blame for the timin' on this one, if only for not heedin' Lori's words better. Because maybe somehow the private time he'd spent with Carol and Sophia that day . . . which really hadn't been so private at all, given how the whole God damn CAMP was around them(!) . . . had got back to Ed. And maybe this was the punishment. Because this wasn't just a smack she'd taken.

This was a full beat down.

A bad enough one actually, that when Carol still hadn't spoken again, Daryl started gettin' real worried that she might need more proper medical attention. And that would be of the kind they didn't have access to anymore.

It was back there in the distance with the ice and the downstairs.

And just as he was about to ask her one more time what had happened, when suddenly he realized that the reason she wasn't speakin', was because she seemed to maybe be having some trouble breathing. Feeling a spark of adrenaline then, which caused his own breathin' to tighten up, his fingers curled around her hip.

"Peach, baby . . . you okay?"

The question came out slow, and hesitant. She didn't answer him though. Not with words anyway. No, instead he just saw her hand shoot up to throat.

Then she started to cough.

And it was clear that she was NOT okay, at all! He could also see from the look on her face that she was terrified. Because it wasn't the normal, 'itch' type coughin,' it was the 'something's blocking up your airway,' type coughin'.

Which was WAY fuckin' worse!

And feeling a flood of genuine panic start to rise up over the fear he was already feelin', Daryl immediately slid his arm around Carol's waist, and shifted her body around so she was leanin' over his arm.

At that point he had one hand low on her belly, and one hand high on her back, both there with the intention of tryin' to help her get whatever was there in her windpipe, out a little faster. It took a few light smacks though with the heel of his hand, well up between her shoulder blades, until finally she gagged. Then a thick glob of blood spewed out, and hit the rocks down by their feet.

That seemed to clear the blockage.

Because then she sucked in a half a raggedy breath, right as she gasped out his name again. And not to put too fine a point on it . . . but Daryl was ready to go on a fuckin' spree at that point. Really, his rage was so much worse then, than even before. Because seein' that blood there while she was clinging so desperate to his side, all he could picture himself doing, was going back up to the camp, and jammin' his hunting knife straight down into her husband's throat. Fuck the consequences.

And fuck the guilt.

Daryl's mind was actually startin' to go blank with thoughts of killing that man, when suddenly he noticed something that snapped him back to the moment. And that something was a trickle of blood comin' out of Carol's mouth. His eyes widened.

Oh shit!

And with that fresh stab of fear sharpening his senses again, he quickly reached out to rub his thumb along her lower lip and inside her mouth, trying to see if that trickle was comin' from a superficial cut . . . like from her lip or maybe a loosened tooth . . . or if it was more worst case. Like maybe her internal issues were worse even than just that one glob. Because that glob (and this was his sincerest hope), coulda come just from her swallowin' blood down from her busted nose. That had happened to him before lots a times.

Maybe this time she just swallowed down too much at once.

But as Daryl pulled his hand back to wipe that smear of red onto his pant leg, he just couldn't tell for sure what else was goin' on there with Carol's injuries. Yeah, her lip was definitely split on the corner, he could see that, but the bleedin' from that was minimal. The only thing he could tell for sure about her condition, was that she was in terrible pain . . . her muscles were tight, and her body was hunched . . . and that she was definitely real wobbly on her feet.

That second one didn't help much though, given how wobbly legs coulda just been an offshoot of the first issue.

It was just then that he saw her wince again right before she ducked her head. That time it was to tuck her good side up against his chest. And by 'good side,' that would be the side of her face that wasn't all bruised and swollen.

Then she started to cry.

Feeling those warm tears startin' to soak into his shirt though, that's when he found his anger being pushed back by something else. Something softer. Because he knew him bein' pissed wasn't gonna do her any good in that moment. No, what he _needed_ to be doin' was just looking after her. And doing it proper like if she was really his.

Like he was hopin' maybe she could be.

So he found himself lettin' out a soft sigh. Then he slipped his arm back around her waist again, and tipped his head to press his lips to her ear.

"It's okay, baby," he murmured with a light rub of his hand down her back, "it's okay. Just try to do slow, deep breaths. That should hurt less, and it'll help calm your heart too, 'cuz I can feel it racing."

"Yep," she gasped out a short, tight, teary, pant . . . the opposite of what he'd just said to do, "it is."

"All right then, Peach," he rubbed her back again, "you work on slowin' things down, while I get refocused here on tryin' to figure out if you've got blood comin' from anywhere internal. Because we kinda need to figure that one out on the short term. So," he let out a heavy breath as his hand stilled, "I have to poke around a little more, all right?"

That time her answer was a faint nod and a sniffle, right before she tried to take in one of those deep, slow breaths he'd suggested. But that move didn't work out so well for her. Because he saw how she let out a hiss of pain, as her right hand came up brush over her left side. He scowled then, because it was clear how between her jaw and her side, Ed definitely liked to go left. And Daryl hated to see how bad she was hurtin' there, but that hiss at least gave him a good idea on what the problem likely was.

She'd taken a good sock to the ribs.

So he let the hand on her back slide around. Then very slowly . . . and _very_ gently . . . he started to run it up her side and along her rib cage, with just the tips of his fingers lightly skimming over that fitted tank she was wearin'. He was tryin' not to put down any pressure at all. Still though . . . finally he hit the mark.

And her second cry of pain let him know just how bad the mark was.

So with a contrite murmur of, "sorry," his fingers immediately fell away from that spot, and down to touch the hem of her shirt.

He gave it a little tug.

That's when her eyes snapped up to his. He could see that they were wide, and watery . . . and scared.

So scared.

His expression immediately softened as he brought his free hand up to touch her cheek again.

"Please Peach," he whispered, "I gotta see how bad it is so I'll be able to tell how much I need to worry here."

Having been on the receivin' end of too many beat downs to count, he'd likely be able to tell from the color of her skin, if the bruises were just tissue injuries, or if her ribs really were fucked up. From _there_ , if the ribs were fucked up, the question would be if they were bruised or broke. And if they were _bruised_ , that was just gonna hurt like hell 'til they healed. But if they were _broke_ , well hell, not only were they gonna hurt, but that's when a bad situation can go much, much worse.

Like her lungs were fucked too.

And after a second of her staring up at him with those teary, pain filled, eyes, Carol finally blinked and swallowed.

"But," she murmured, "I don't have on a bra so . . ."

And she trailed off.

"Okay, well," his lips pressed together, "you just spit out some blood Carol, so all I'm worried about at the moment, is you bein' all right. I mean I'm hopin' that blood was just some you swallowed down from your busted nose, but," he tipped his head, "we don't wanna assume that without at least takin' a better look here. So if you hold the front of your top," he squeezed her fingers, "I promise I'll be a gentleman about it, okay?"

Another tear slipped over and slid down her cheek, right before she whispered back an, "okay," with a sniffle and a nod.

All he was tryin' to do then was to help her, but she sounded so broken and sad, it just made Daryl feel sick. Like somehow he was makin' all this even worse for her. But until he at least got a little better read on any injuries she might have on the internal side, there wasn't anything he could think to do physically, that'd make her feel any better. So he just waited, while she brought her hand up to pin her shirt down over the bosom area.

Once she had it in place, his fingertips gathered up the hem of the thin blue cotton, and he slowly lifted up the material.

His eyes immediately widened in alarm.

"Jesus," he hissed. Because even with just the moonlight, he could how her stomach, and then really her whole left side was like a rainbow of colors. Little spots of pale white . . . that's what shade her skin actually should've been . . . but mostly it wasn't. No mostly . . . his temper started to spike again . . . it was purples, and yellows, and greens and browns.

Those were all the colors of the bruises, both old and new.

Above that though, was the worst of the new stuff. About two inches below her armpit, right where his fingertips had brushed against her side when she'd cried out . . . there was a nasty mark. Fortunately it did seem to be just tissue and not a busted rib . . . it was just a real sensitive place to be hit . . . but still he could make out the knuckle marks comin' in around the edges.

In fact with better light, he was pretty sure he coulda made out the wedding ring on that fist too.

It was just then, when Daryl was again picturin' what he'd be doin' to that asswipe when he got his hands on him, that Carol sucked in another raggedy breath, and the hold on her shirt shifted a bit. And that's when the outer curve of her breast came into view.

Daryl tried to shift his eyes away . . . to be the gentleman he'd promised her he'd be . . . but then something caught his attention besides just that delicate curve.

Because there were marks there too.

"Cigarettes," he murmured with a ghost of his thumb over the new set of scars he'd just found. Unfortunately Carol jumped when he touched her, and really he hadn't meant to take the liberty of puttin' his hand there . . . or even of sayin' that word out loud . . . but still it happened anyway. Because seeing those marks burned into that soft white flesh, he'd had a sudden flash. And then he was rememberin' how Momma used to scream when Daddy put his cigarette out on her chest. The memory was sharp enough that Daryl's eyes started to burn.

He quickly blinked the moisture away.

Then, with Carol's shirt still pulled up, he dropped his hand down to gently run his fingertips over another scar he recognized. This one was on her right side, just above her hip. And he could feel how her breath caught when he touched it.

Though that time he was near positive he couldn't have been hurtin' her.

"That one's old," she whispered, the nerves clear in her voice. And he shook his head.

"Not that old," he murmured back as he brushed his thumb along the pinkish, slightly puckered texture, "less than three months, I'd say." His eyes shot up to hers.

She was about to start cryin' again.

"Less than three months since your husband jammed a steak knife into your side," he continued softly, "because that is what happened here, right? Something was wrong with his dinner, and that's what you got for it."

With all the violence he'd seen within his own family, and then later inflicted on others . . . the latter sometimes admittedly by his own doings . . . the tell tale signs of flesh cut open by a medium sized, serrated blade, were easy for him to read. And though Carol didn't confirm his guess on how she'd got that scar, he could tell from how she bit her lip as a fresh tear spilled over, that was exactly what happened. And havin' another worry pop into his head then, he leaned around to check her back. And sure enough, he could see the same ugly rainbow of new bruises to old marking her skin. The worst part there though, was that the bruises were all around her kidneys too.

It'd be a damn miracle if she hadn't been pissin' blood since the day they'd met.

So he leaned back, and let his fingers slip. Then he very carefully fixed her shirt until it was smooth again. And for a moment he just stared down at his bow laying there by his boots.

Then his eyes snapped back up to hers.

"He's been tryin' to _kill_ you, Peach," he whispered, his voice breaking in the middle, "you do know that, right?"

Yeah, he'd known she was getting kicking around, but seein' all those marks for himself and knowin' now how many times Ed had gone for the soft part of her belly, and around on her kidneys . . . the places where the most damage could be done, because she had no bones to protect her . . . it was clear that she was lucky to even be alive right now. When he said that though, for a second Carol just stared up at him in shock, like that was the last thing she'd expected. But then her face crumpled.

And she burst into tears.

"Of COURSE I know that!" she sobbed, "but I don't know what to _DO_ , Daryl! All I want to do is take Sophia and run, but I can't take care of her out in this new world! The walkers would pick us off before we even had time to starve!"

And seeing how horribly he'd just upset her . . . and even worse somehow made her feel like this was in any way on her . . . Daryl immediately winced and pulled Carol back to his chest.

"Oh please don't cry, baby," he murmured with a light brush of his fingers along her upper back . . . he was trying to be so careful now of where he touched her, "I'm sorry. Just tell me what's been goin' on, okay?"

At first she was crying too hard to even try to speak again. But after he'd held her for a little bit, she hiccuped against his chest. Then she moaned and grabbed at her side again. That's when he knew the pain from those new hits was startin' to get the worst of her.

The crying was definitely not helping either.

"Try shallow breaths, Peach," he whispered in her ear, "slow and shallow."

Fortunately she did seem to be listenin' to him, because she immediately shifted her breathing. And after she did those shallow breaths for a minute or so, her tears were better. She seemed calmer too. Finally she sniffled and tipped her head back.

"Can you talk now?" He asked softly. And she nodded, and sniffed again. Then she put her head back down on his chest, and started tellin' him the story he'd been waiting on.

She started from beginning.

"He's always hit me," she whispered, her voice crackling with pain and grief, "but it's gotten so much worse over the years. It's like he just kept getting meaner and meaner the longer we were married. I did try leaving him once after I had Sophia, but he was so much in my head by then," she sniffed, "that I was just freaking out the whole time we were at the shelter, that he was going to find us, and when he got there, he was going to kill us both. Finally I was absolutely convinced that was exactly what would happen, because he'd _promised_ me that's what would happen. I'll kill you if you try to leave me. He used to whisper that in my ear, right before I went to sleep. So after a few days of just waiting for him to show up, the last of my courage had finally drained away, and I went back to the house with my tail between my legs." She tipped her head, "I got beat up of course. But really," she swallowed, "that was the devil I knew. And it just seemed easier to take the hits, than to keep dreaming of this fantasy world where we got away. So," she winced again, "I gave up on the idea of ever being brave enough to try to leave again. Instead I just turned it all over to God. Every day I prayed and prayed, just waiting for something to change. But then," her voice caught, "everything changed. And when it did, when things started to unravel," she nodded, "that's when Ed started to really unravel too. I don't know if it was just the stress of everything falling apart, or if he saw it all like," she took another shallow breath, "well, like as an opportunity. You know, no more society, no more consequences," her voice started to fade, "there was nothing to keep him in check anymore. And that's when the beatings started getting even worse, and so much more vicious. It used to be that every day was a slap, then it was that every day was a _smack_." She tipped her head back to look up at hm.

"You know the difference, right?"

And he nodded.

"Yeah," he let out a heavy breath, "I know the difference."

"Right so," she swallowed and put her head back down . . . she brushed her fingers along his side, "the worse the world got, the harder those smacks got. And what used to just be a full beating a few times a month, became a full beating a few times a week. It was around the time that Washington fell, that he started finishing off with a double punch to the kidneys, hitting me as hard as he could. And that would hurt _so_ much, that I would scream and scream, and then he'd throw me on the floor with a final kick to the legs. And when I looked up at him, I could see it in his eyes then," she swallowed, "there was this blackness there. And he'd look down at me like you'd look at a bug you were about to squish, and I knew . . . he was just waiting for the day when he was ready to let the last of himself go. And by the time I realized that he didn't just want to hurt me anymore," her voice cracked, "but that he really just wanted me dead, it was too late to try and run again. Everything had already fallen apart. So," she looked up with a horribly sad, broken, smile, "I was left with only two choices. To take my girl out in the world where I knew that we would die quick on our own, probably within days, or I could stay with this terrible man who was trying to kill me, and pray that maybe that way I could keep Sophia alive a little longer."

Her hand came up then to the cross hanging from her neck . . . she brushed her fingers along the smooth metal.

"And so until we got here," she continued softly with another pained breath, "that was the plan. To just take the beatings for as long as I could," she gave a slow nod, "or at least as long as he would let me live, if it would just give Sophia more time."

Her voice faded off there at the end. But these weren't thoughts Carol had ever voiced aloud to another person. Never in a million years would she have thought that she _could_ , voice them aloud! But there was something about this gruff, sweet, man, and how he could read the marks on her body like a map, that broke down the very last of her defenses. And the way he'd run his fingers along her skin, so tender and gentle. A man hadn't touched her like that since Alex. Alex Hardy.

He was the last before Ed.

Once, Alex had asked her to marry him. And if only she'd known then how that gentleness was what she needed, she would've stayed with him. But Alex had been an insurance adjuster. He'd worn bow ties and seer sucker suits, and had ironed creases in his golf shirts. Yes, he'd been a very nice man, and a decent lover, but twenty-six year old Carol Delaney had thought a life with him would be boring. She sucked in a ragged, pain filled, breath.

God, how she would've KILLED for a boring life!

And now that she'd gotten herself distracted enough thinking back to the last time her world had any possibilities of a future left in it, she didn't even realize that Daryl had moved his hand again.

That was until his thumb brushed along her cheek.

Her eyes snapped back to his.

"Your plan was to let yourself be beaten to death," he murmured in disbelief, "just on the _chance_ of buyin' your girl a place in this hell?"

And she swallowed.

"If that was the only way to keep her alive, then," she nodded, "yeah, that was the plan." She gave him a sad, watery, smile then. "She's my whole life Daryl. All I have to show for my time here. She's perfect," her voice broke, "and I'd just wanted her to have some kind of chance. I know she hasn't had a happy life, but I thought maybe I could keep her alive long enough until maybe things could've changed again."

Daryl bit his lip.

"You keep talkin' in the past tense now," he said slowly, knowin' that tense had everything to do with the fresh marks on her body, "so what changed?"

When her face twisted then with an anger and shame that he hadn't seen on her in any other part of this story, he knew that whatever Ed had done tonight, it had crossed a line that'd never been crossed before. And fearin' so much what that line coulda been, Daryl's hand slipped down from Carol's back, to settle onto her hip.

Then she took a breath . . . which of course made her wince . . . and then very slowly let it out.

"It was that trip today with Shane and the others," she continued on a tight, pain filled, whisper, "that's what changed. And it changed everything. Because Ed was so mad anyway just about having to go, and after they got back and we were all locked together, he and Shane just kept snipping at each other. So by the time we got out of the trailer, he was really just in a rage. And he dragged Sophia and me back to the tent, and he just kept ranting and raving about everyone and everything, and I just kept trying to get him to calm down," she slowly shook her head, "but nothing was working. Finally Jacqui yelled that dinner was ready, and so I got Ed to agree to go out to have some of the stew. Because I thought if he had some food in his stomach maybe he'd settle down a bit. So we went back out and had dinner with everyone, but," her voice started to thicken, "because he hadn't let me leave to go help _make_ dinner, I felt I should help with the cleanup. And I should've known there was something off when he didn't put up a fuss about me staying, when until then he'd been so adamant about not letting me out of his sight. But," her voice faded, "I didn't realize something was wrong until it was too late."

Then she stopped.

And though Daryl wanted so badly to push Carol to keep goin' so he could find out what in the name of ever loving JESUS had happened(!), he could see how she was touchin' her belly, and tryin' to catch her breath. It was clear she'd been talking for too long already . . . it was wearin' her out. Still, he really needed to hear the end of this story. But there was more to it than just that.

He knew she really needed to tell it.

So he didn't try to make her stop and rest, even though his gut told him that's what really woulda been best for her health. No, instead, he just gave another gentle rub to her hip. And he did that, because it was the one place on her mid-section he was pretty sure she didn't have any fresh bruises, because it was the one place she didn't visibly wince when he put his hands on her. Finally, she took one last small breath, and cleared her throat. Before she 'd even opened her mouth again though, he knew this part was gonna be the worst of it.

'Cuz her eyes were already shining.

"The last time I'd seen Sophia," Carol continued on in a teary whisper, "she was with Carl, playing tag behind the camper. So it wasn't until I'd finished putting away the dishes, and went to collect her for bed, that I found out from Carl, that Ed had taken Sophia back to the tent." Carol's voice broke, "and that's when it clicked, the thing that wasn't right. Because for the last couple of weeks, he's been looking at her kind of funny. But I kept telling myself I was reading the look wrong, that as horrible as he was, that he wasn't that kind of horrible. But when I heard that he took her, I took off running because I knew then," her voice cracked, "that I'd made a horrible mistake. So I ran," the tears started to slide down her face again, "I ran all the way, and when I got back to the tent, I . . . I . . ."

" _What_ , Peach?!" Daryl finally cut in, half in desperation, when the lead ball in his stomach started to rise up into his throat, "what did you _see_?!"

"Sophia!" Carol cried, "Ed had her pinned down on her back, flat out, on his sleeping bag. One of his hands was on her stomach, and one was high up on her thigh, and thank God her shorts were still on, but she was crying," Carol's voice broke, "no daddy, no, and when he heard me behind him, and he spun around, I could see he already had his belt undone and there was a bulge in his pants. So I didn't even think, I just," she sniffled, "for the first time ever, I did what I should have done from the day Sophia was born. I just shoved her daddy as hard I could. And when he fell to the side, I grabbed her up, and I ran. I ran all the way back across camp, until I got to Lori's tent. And um," Carol sucked in another small, tight breath then, "well, I just thank God that Shane was already there, because I didn't know where else to take Sophia where she would really be safe. So I just uh," she blinked back another batch of tears, "I asked them if she could sleep over. And they could see that something was really wrong because I was crying, and Sophia was crying, and they both tried to ask me what had happened, but I just couldn't say," her voice broke, "because it was my fault that I'd missed it, and I needed to deal with it myself. To finally take responsibility for my daughter. So I just told them that Ed had a headache and uh," she swallowed, "it would be better if Sophia stayed away that night. And of course," she sniffed, "Sophia was still just still sobbing there the whole time with her head against my stomach, so they knew that wasn't really the story, but," Carol nodded as another tear slipped down her cheek, "they're good people. They are. Both of them. So they took her for me, and Lori, she promised me that they'd keep her safe. And then just when I turned to walk away, to go back, she reached out, and she squeezed my hand so hard. That's when she told me that I could stay too," she swallowed, "if that's what I wanted."

Carol blinked then, and looked back at Daryl. And she could see how his breath was coming shallow and tight.

Almost as tight as hers was.

"I really like Lori," she whispered. And he bit his lip.

"Yeah," Daryl swallowed, "I really like Lori too. But baby," his expression twisted with grief as he reached over to touch her cheek, "why didn't you stay there with her and Shane? Or at least come and get me?" His voice faded, "why did you go back?"

"Because," Carol whispered, "I wanted to be like Lori. She's so strong," her eyes crinkled ever so faintly, "and she doesn't take any guff from anyone. And when I was there with them, I was thinking, I can do it, I can be like that too," her jaw twisted, "because I'd already stolen Sophia away and Ed hadn't stopped me. And I was still so much in a rage, that I was sure if I went back and showed him that I'd finally reached the tipping point, where I truly hated him more than I feared him, that somehow he'd back down. And maybe then he'd see how sick he was for what he'd tried to do." Her brow darkened, "but of course that was just plain stupid. Because the second I stormed back in there, before I could even open my mouth, he'd knocked me cold. I don't know how long I was out, but I woke up with my pants and underwear gone, my shirt mostly ripped off, and well," her lips pressed together, "with him trying to rape me."

Hearing Daryl's sharp inhale then, Carol shook her head with a vague disgust.

"It's okay, he didn't. Because apparently," her voice tightened, "now that Ed's found he can get himself exited by his ten year old daughter, he can't keep an erection any other way. At least not tonight anyway. So while he was busy cursing and trying to get himself going again, I was scrambling to pull on my nightgown, because that was all I could see to grab that wasn't torn up. But when he realized I was awake and trying to get dressed, he just hit a new level of fury. And seeing how he couldn't rape me like he'd wanted, he just started pounding his fists into me instead. My thighs," she swallowed, "my side, my stomach, my back. Basically he beat me until the sun went down and he'd worn himself out. And when he passed out, still with his pathetic limp penis hanging out, that's when I grabbed up some other clothes, inched my way out of the tent, and came down here to clean up the blood. Because I'm not strong," she added the last, sadly, as her fingers came up to brush along her bruised cheek, "I'm not Lori."

If she _had_ been Lori, she would've cut that floppy little dick of his clean off and tossed it into the fire. The thought had come to her for just a second when she saw that he was passed out. But that crippling fear had come back to her then. And she'd just been terrified that he'd wake up before she could get it done. And if he'd come to and realized what she was doing, he really _would've_ killed her dead.

No doubt.

"Hey," Daryl whispered to Carol, "don't you say you're not strong, Peach. 'Cuz I know what it is to take a beatin' like this," he shook his head then, fiercely, "and you don't walk away from those, unless you got some steel in you, woman."

Seeing her eyes start to water again then, he tucked her back to his chest. And once her arms slipped around his waist, he leaned in to press his lips to her ear.

"And I promise you, he's not gonna lay a hand on you or Sophia ever again."

At that, Carol tipped her head back to look up at him. And after a moment of staring with those fresh tears in her eyes, she swallowed and looked away.

"You can't promise me that unless you're planning to kill him in cold blood," she whispered sadly, her eyes locked on the ground, "and you can't do that, because I know that's not who you are," she swallowed again, "that's who he is. But if you could just help us to get away, and find some place to hide," she continued then with a sniffle as she looked back up, "I'd be so grateful."

Daryl's eyes widened.

"Woman," he gave her a disbelieving look, "you can't possibly think the solution to dealin' with that sick bastard, is you two running off on your own with that half case of spam and that full bag of cheerios!? 'Cuz that one ain't happenin' in my lifetime!"

"But Daryl," Carol's voice broke, "what else can I do?! We _can't_ stay in the camp! Leaving is the only way to keep Sophia safe from her daddy! He's gone off to the other side now, and there's not going to be anything stopping him from going after her like that again! And you and Shane are the ones who could handle him, and you're both gone all the time," she sniffled, "so even if you were both to stick around camp for a day or so, the second you two have to go off, no matter who else tried to help, Ed would just plow right through them. He'd snatch her back, and I know he won't hesitate to kill me now to get to her."

After all that her daughter had suffered under that man, almost from the point where she could walk, this sexual abuse was a new line . . . a new evil . . . that Ed was about to cross. And that, finally (or probably more to the point, pathetically) was Carol's line in the sand. Her one bridge too far.

Ten years too late.

And she could see now how Daryl looking down at her with an expression that was sort of a mix of sympathy and something else. Something she couldn't quite read. But then he brought his hand back up, and he cupped her jaw.

"If you trust me, Carol," he soothed with another gentle brush of his thumb along her cheek, "then you _will_ both be safe here. On my word, I can get you free of him, and I can make him pay for what he did to both of you."

"But," she cut in with another sniffle, as her brow knitted in confusion, "you're away hunting most days. How could you keep us safe if you're not here?" Then her eyes widened. "Wait," her fingers curled into his shirt, "could we go with you?! Into the woods I mean! We'd be so quiet, you wouldn't even know we were there!"

Feeling his heart ache for this woman who was so desperate to be free from that sick bastard of a husband, that she was beggin' to wander through walker infested woods all day, Daryl found his expression softening.

"No, Peach," he slowly shook his head, "I'm sorry, but you guys couldn't keep up with me. Besides I run into walkers all the time, so that'd just be a different kind of danger to worry about. But," he took a breath, "that's not what I meant anyway about keeping you safe. My plan is to just break that sick fucker once and for all. And when I'm done with him, the only thing I can guarantee is that he should still be breathin'. But he won't be walking again. And he ain't gonna have no use for that limp dick of his either. That's gonna be some defective equipment by day's end."

After hearing how Ed had tried to rape both Sophia and Carol, the plan now was to stomp all his junk into jelly. That was if Daryl didn't just do some trimming with his bowie knife.

He'd have to see how the mood struck him.

Carol blinked.

"Are you serious?" she sniffled in disbelief, "you'd really break him for me?"

"Yeah, Peach," his mouth twisted then, in a sad, broken smile, "I'd love nothin' more than to break him for you. Because you've been in my head since the day I saw you show up in camp, and you've been under my skin since the day we met in the woods. I don't know why but," he took a breath, "it feels like things fell together the way they did, for a reason. And I hope me sayin' that don't make you feel weird, because I don't mean it to be like that. It's just," he let out a heavy sigh, "in simple words, bein' with you makes me feel good, and seein' you hurt makes me feel sick. So at this point I'd no sooner leave you alone with Ed as I would leave you alone with a walker. And no," his jaw clenched, "maybe I can't blow his brains out, but, if his body's broke," he gave a slow nod, "the result'll be the same."

There was a feeling in Carol's chest then, that she hadn't felt in so long, it took her a moment to even identify what it was. But then Daryl reached out to brush one of those fresh tears off her face. And with that gentle touch of his skin against hers, she had it.

It was joy.

It was just a faint ember, but that was definitely what he made her feel. Taking in how he looked at her though, along with the promises he was making to get her and her daughter a chance to go free, Carol realized that it wasn't just a physical attraction, or an emotional connection, that she felt for this man. It was so much more than that.

He was actually the prayer she'd been waiting on.

And the realization that the end of the world or not, maybe God really hadn't forsaken them completely, gave Carol a spark of hope, when hope was another thing that had been lost so long ago. But then seeing how Daryl was biting down on his lip, and realizing then that maybe he was worried about her reaction to what he'd said, she tentatively reached up. Then she brushed her thumb along his chin.

"You know," she whispered hoarsely, "you were actually the other reason I tried to confront him on my own."

Seeing Daryl's eyes widen with alarm, right before he sputtered back, "what in God's name did I do to make you think _that_ was a good idea?!" her lip quirked up a bit.

Though there was no humor there.

"It wasn't anything you said," she explained with another shallow breath, "it's just how you are. And how you'd been making me feel all week when I was with you," she bit her lip, "it was like I was a stronger me. But then I realized later," she huffed, "when I was getting my face bashed in, that I only felt stronger with you because you made me feel safe."

Maybe Daryl was right, maybe things really did fall together the way they did, just so they'd run across each other right at the time they did. Either way, when she felt him pull her back to his chest and tip his head down next to hers, her horribly aching, occasionally stabbing pains notwithstanding, that was about as happy (and safe) as she'd felt since long before she'd met Ed. And for a few seconds, she just let herself breathe that man in on her little shallow, pain filled, breaths. It was that same smell that she'd been getting just a hint of each time she'd been close to him. But now she'd finally identified all of it. There was a salty musk that was very masculine, and came about probably from the heat. Then there was the lingering nicotine from his occasional cigarettes, and even more occasional scrubbing up. And lastly there was something earthy about his skin. Her eyes crinkled a bit.

It might literally have just been dirt.

But all together it was him, and it was wonderful. And if not for how her body was starting to really give up the ghost, she would've stayed out there as long as he'd have stayed with her. But at that point everything was aching so much, and the muscles in her legs . . . legs which were going to be black and blue tomorrow, if they weren't already . . . were getting even more wobbly. So though she hated to have to do it, finally she murmured against Daryl's chest, in another tight breath, "Daryl, I need to sit down soon, or I think I might fall down."

After so many years, she was used to moving around with busted anything and everything. But she'd been taking so many smacks and punches these last few weeks, it was like with this last one . . . which had been the most vicious . . . she'd finally hit the wall. As soon as she said though that she was going to fall down, Daryl immediately shifted his grip on her, to scoop her up off the rocks.

Then as he cradled her close to his chest, careful she noticed to keep his hands off her ribs, he tipped his head down. Then he pressed his lips to her ear.

"Does this hurt more, Peach?" he murmured. "Or is it okay?"

"No," she swallowed, "no, it's fine." She tucked her head in against his shoulder, as her voice faded off, "it's just fine."

It was actually much better than fine. Yes, everything still ached, but no worse than before. And at least this way they got to cuddle up close. That latter thought must have been Daryl's as well. Because he held her there like that for at least another full minute. But then finally he let out a faint sigh, and another murmur. That time it was, "I need to get you cleaned up and off to bed."

And she closed her eyes then, because she knew he was going to go put her down. And sure enough, that's when he turned and carried her off the rocks, and over to the soft dirt just before the underbrush.

That's where he stooped down, and very carefully placed her on the ground.

"Anything hurtin' now, that you think we need to worry about?" He whispered, with a squeeze of her fingers. And she gave him back a quick shake of her head.

"No," her lips pursed as her free hand lightly pressed against her stomach, "just everything aches something awful." Then her mouth twisted in a faint, wry smile, "don't think the baby aspirin's going to do much tonight."

He took a breath then.

"Don't you worry about that Peach," he slowly exhaled, "I can get you something a lot better than baby aspirin." He brought his other hand up to ghost along her cheek, "we just need to this blood washed off first."

So he let his hand fall away then, before he got up and went back to the quarry's edge. That's where he picked up her nightgown, and dipped the whole thing back into the water.

He soaked it through.

Once he'd lifted it out again, and squeezed away the excessive liquid, he walked back to where she was sitting in the dirt, stooped down . . . and started gently cleaning the dried blood off her face.

He was about halfway through, when he started 'tskin' at the state of her jaw.

"God do I wish we had an ice pack to get some of this swellin' down," he murmured, while rubbing the slightly bloody cloth under her chin to get a sticky spot.

Her lips pursed.

"Yeah, I'm going to look like such a fool tomorrow."

His hand immediately stilled.

"No," his eyes shot up to hers as he shook his head, "you're not gonna look a fool. Nobody's ever thought you were a fool, Carol."

"Andrea has," she shot back quietly, "I can see it almost every time she looks at me." And his brow darkened considerably then.

As did his tone.

" _Fuck_ Andrea," he spit out, "that rich bitch don't know what it's like to be a regular person, and how sometimes you just get stuck. But tomorrow," he nodded firmly to himself, as he moved to start cleaning her face again, "you're gonna be unstuck."

Feeling her eyes start to tear up at that, not just with how sweet he was being taking care of her, but how maybe he really did seem to understand the life she'd lived, Carol tried (by habit) to take a deep breath to clear the lump in her throat. But all she managed to do was to give herself another stab in the ribs.

That's when Daryl's hand stilled again.

"Baby," his fingers ghosted along her side, "remember, you gotta do little breaths for now. I'm gonna steal some of Merle's pain pills so you can sleep, and breath proper so you don't get sick, but for now just try and stick with the shallow breathin', okay?"

"Yep," she gave him a small tight, smile, "okay."

Of course she knew that, but it was just so damn hard to stick with the little breaths, when all she wanted to do was take a deep one and just fill her lungs again. It was like being forced to endlessly do some variation on Lamaze.

One with no prize in the end.

Not that she would ever outwardly complain about such a thing. This was her penance for not taking better care of her girl. So she'd take the pain . . . this one last beating if all went by Daryl's plan . . . and she'd remember it.

Remember it for the days when she felt weak again.

And so she sat there patiently as he Daryl finished cleaning her up. Then he went over and rinsed the blood out of her nightgown, before tossing it over some of the scrub so it would dry. Carol figured that she could throw it in the laundry pile to get it properly cleaned, once she was feeling better. Though the way she was feeling at the moment, that could possibly be a week from then.

And making it another week in this new world, was like living a month in the old one.

Even without Ed, the days were so hard. But as Carol watched Daryl slipping his bow and quiver back over his shoulder, she couldn't even imagine how different her night would've gone if that man hadn't shown up. She likely would've passed out there by the water. Because with the home life she'd had, really she'd never had anyone, ever, who had taken care of her before. Nobody, ironically, except for Daryl himself.

The other night when he'd bound up her wrist.

So when she saw him heading back over, feeling a twinge of guilt for all that he'd done already, she tried to push herself to her feet for the walk up the hill. But all Daryl did was quicken his steps, while he chastised her for trying to get up at all. And then before she knew it, he'd scooped her back off the ground, like she weighed nothing at all. But to a man with a body like his . . . the kind you earn with real physical labor, not the kind you get in a gym . . . maybe she really didn't weigh anything.

Still though, she felt a little guilty as he started carrying her up the hill. So she whispered against his throat, "if you just hold my arm, I could probably make the walk back okay." But he just grunted at that, and she knew that meant he wasn't actually taking her seriously at all.

Which might have been for the best.

Because as she let out a faint sigh, and thought back on her trip from her tent, down to the quarry, she knew that had mostly been a run fueled by adrenaline. And her adrenaline was all gone now.

She was just so tired.

Realizing then that she really could rest for a minute, Carol closed her eyes and tucked her head against Daryl's shoulder. It wasn't until she felt that they'd reached even ground, that Daryl took a deep breath.

"If you want," he spoke softly, and hesitantly as they moved through the camp, "I can put ya in with Lori. You know you'll be safe there."

And she blinked and brushed her fingers along his collarbone.

"I can't stay with you?" She whispered back, hoping she didn't sound as pathetically desperate for him not to leave her alone, as she felt like she did. But then his eyes crinkled just a bit . . . if she wasn't so close she wouldn't have seen it . . . and he gave her a little nod.

"Course you can stay with me, Peach," he murmured, "I just wanted you to have your choice. But I do have a shift on the roof at four, I'm covering for T-Dog, so I should probably bring you over to Lori's then. I mean," he grunted, "Merle'd knock Ed flat if he caught him in our tent, just on the principle of it, but I can't guarantee he'd stop him from taking you back." Daryl's voice faded off, "he don't always do the right thing."

Though Carol had some thoughts there on how she had yet to see Merle EVER do the right thing . . . she didn't share them. It wasn't her place to comment. Besides that though, she wanted to ask Daryl why she couldn't just go up on the roof with him.

If she took a blanket she could probably just go back to sleep up there while he kept watch.

Then she realized though, that given how she was being _carried_ back to camp, that Daryl was likely going to nix her trying to climb up the ladder onto that roof. And really, she probably wasn't in any condition for that type of activity.

She was barely in any condition to be standing.

It was just then, that she realized they were coming up on the Dixon brothers' tent. And it did feel a little strange to her after all these years of being bound and gagged in that nightmare of a marriage, that she was going to be sleeping somewhere with two other men.

Daryl didn't even slow his steps though when they got there. He just caught the canvas flap with his elbow, ducked his head, and walked them inside.

Outside they'd still had moonlight to see by, but inside there it was nothing but shadows and faint outlines. Again though, that didn't slow the mountain man who could clearly see in the dark. He just moved over to his side of the tent, stooped down, and gently lowered her down onto the open sleeping bag. And remembering that he was going to get her a pill to sleep, rather than attempting to (awkwardly and painfully) get herself situated on his bed, Carol just pulled her legs up, and curled herself into a little ball. Then she watched him in the shadows, as he slipped his bow and quiver full of arrows off his shoulder, and put them down by the end of the blankets. Then he took his gun out of his waistband, and his bundle of knives off his belt. There were four of those, all in various sizes.

He put all of those items up at the top of the bed.

Those were his close quarter's weapons, she realized, the ones he'd use if he was surprised in the dark. That's when she felt a new pull for him. Not just a physical attraction . . . which was definitely there, because he was just sexy as hell . . . but because she could see from all that he was pulling off, how well armed and capable he honestly was. This was a man that really could keep her and her daughter alive in this new world. Again, he was the thing she'd been praying for all these years.

She just hadn't known it until tonight.

It was right then when he turned to her, and even in the shadows, she could see that he'd brought his finger up to his lips. And understanding that he needed her to stay quiet for a minute, she gave him a quick nod. Then he turned, and with his head cocked to the side, he stared over at his brother.

He gave that assessment a good thirty seconds.

Once he seemed to be sure though that Merle was sound asleep . . . he was snoring loud enough to pull in a herd of walkers . . . Daryl stooped down and slipped his hand into a duffel at the foot of the other bedroll.

After he'd dug around in there for a second, he pulled out what seemed to be a large ziplock baggy filled with small containers. That was likely Merle's stash of pills, would be Carol's guess. Everybody knew he had them, because it wasn't like he tried to hide it or anything. He was actually very "open" about when he was going off to get high. Generally that was because he didn't want anybody bothering him. Yes, the man had MANY faults, but he was a straight shooter, there was no doubt about that. Of course that was also the reason most of the camp hated his guts too.

There was just no filter on that filthy mouth of his.

At the moment all Carol wanted though (desperately) was one of his illegally obtained prescription pills. And she could see in how Daryl had that bag held up right in front of his eyes, that he really must have some kind of cat type sight. Because he did seem to be reading the labels (in the dark) on what looked to be the outline of a dozen or so pill bottles inside.

But once he found the one he was looking for, he shot another quick look over to Merle, before he quietly unzipped the bag, popped the cap off the bottle he wanted, sniped however many pills out of there that he'd been planning on taking . . . it was more than one, that's all Carol could tell . . . and sealed everything all back up again.

After he'd tucked the plastic bag back into the duffel one, he picked up his canteen . . . which she hadn't even noticed in the dark . . . and held it out to her with one of the pills.

"Hydrocodone and Tylenol mix," he whispered, "five hundred milligrams. It'll definitely get you some sleep. And I swiped a couple more that I'll cut up tomorrow into smaller doses. That'll keep you movin' until you're mostly healed up."

She bit her lip.

"Thank you," she whispered as her fingers curled around the fat white pill. And he could see the faint outline of the smile he gave her.

"It'll be okay, Peach," he murmured back with a squeeze of her fingers, "I promise. By this time tomorrow you'll be snuggled up with Sophia again, and things'll be all different."

Feeling her eyes start to burn at the image in her mind of starting fresh with her girl, Carol gave Daryl a watery smile. Then with that, she finally tossed the pill back, and took a long drink from the canteen he immediately passed her. But once she was sure the pill had gone all the way down, she passed back his water. And with a faint groan of pain, she scooted her way over to the other side of his bedroll . . . which was only maybe three feet wide . . . and laid her cheek (the non-busted one) down on his pillow.

Again, she got that musky, earthy, nicotine smell.

It was while she was taking a breath of that scent to let it calm her, that Carol realized Daryl hadn't moved to lay down yet. But that's when she felt his hand on her ankle.

He was taking off her sneakers.

Her eyes started to water.

"Thanks," she whispered. But he just grunted as he slipped them off and put them over by the flap. Then he picked up the edge of the sheet, and pulled it up over her shoulders. After that he slipped his boots off, before he finally dropped down and shifted over to lie next to her.

There was about a six inch gap there between them.

There they were, her on her side staring at the outline of his profile, and him on his back, staring up at the roof of the tent. Finally he turned, and rolled onto his side.

He reached over to brush his fingers along her wrist.

"Given your situation, would it be takin' too much liberty if I were to ask to hold you here in bed?"

The words were a whisper, but his tone was so serious, that one of those tears slipped over and rolled down her cheek. Because, God, how could she not fall hard for a man who would ask such a proper, old fashioned, question?

"No," Her voice cracked, "no, you wouldn't be taking any liberty at all."

In the shadows, she saw his lip quirk up a bit, just before he reached over to wipe that tear away. Then he lifted his arm, and she shifted over to put her head on his chest, and tuck herself up against the side of his warm body. And he was right, even if they were still dressed, it was different being so close when they were lying down.

It didn't feel as innocent as it did when they were standing up.

Not that anything inappropriate was going to happen of course, but yeah . . . she swallowed . . . it was a mental adjustment. One that she tried to help along by just closing her eyes. Because if she could just breath him in (shallow breaths or not) then she would calm down.

She was sure of it.

Once Daryl had Carol settled, her with her hand on his belly, and him with his arm wrapped loose around her shoulders . . . he was afraid too much pressure anywhere would cause her more hurt . . . he tipped his head down to take a sniff of that pretty flowered shampoo.

It was faint, but it was there.

So he took a deep inhale of that smell, and then he pressed a very hesitant kiss on her temple.

It was the first time he'd kissed her anywhere.

"I'll make him cry, Peach," he whispered against her skin, "and I'll make him bleed too."

There was also a vague worry in his head that he might even do worse than that. That maybe he might just end up killin' Ed simply because he _wanted_ him to be dead, and he had the physical strength to make it happen. There would be no loss to the world of course if that happened . . . but he didn't know how he'd react himself. 'Cuz sometimes even things done for good cause, can really mess with your head.

Ask any of those soldiers that came back and ended up blowing their brains out.

So yeah . . . he brushed the tips of his fingers along Carol's arm . . . that was a real thought on his mind. And it was right then that he heard Carol sniffle, "I wish I could go get Sophia."

His eyebrow twitched.

"Do you really want her here?" he murmured with a light tap of his fingers on her wrist. "Because if that's what you want, baby, I'll go down and get her for ya."

Of course if Merle woke up, he wasn't gonna take too kindly to him having brought two females into their tent, but that was the least of his issues for the day. So Daryl gave Carol a few seconds to think on the offer, but then finally he felt her shakin' her head.

"No," she sniffed, "it's okay. After what happened, it's probably better to let her sleep, than to wake her up and move her just to make me happy."

At least she was praying that her daughter was sleeping, but it was so many hours passed her bedtime, and it had been such an awful day from beginning (the fall), to middle (the storms), to the end (her rotten, filthy bastard daddy), that she had to have passed out by now.

Just from the pure mental exhaustion of it all.

And hearing Daryl let out a heavy breath and an, "if you're sure, Peach," as he laced their fingers together, Carol had to blink back a fresh batch of tears. It was just something about him being so sweet, that kept cutting into her composure worse than any of the emotional trauma that had gone on that day. And it was just when she was about to say something to thank him for all that he was doing, when suddenly she heard come out of the shadows.

"What in the shit HELL is goin' on over there?!"

Merle.

He sounded half asleep, and . . . she swallowed . . . VERY annoyed.

Then before she could blink, a flashlight flicked on . . . it caught her right in the eyes. And as she was wincing, and bringing her hand up, she could see him blinking on the other side of it. Then the half asleep grumble of, "shit man, you got a girl in here?"

"Just shut up and go back to sleep," Daryl growled back, as he shifted a bit, and brought his arm up to block the beam from hitting her face.

That answer clearly wasn't good enough for Merle though. Because then he was sitting all the way up, and holding the flashlight out, until that beam was RIGHT on her.

Then after a second of staring, she heard him huff, "fuck woman, you get hit by a two by four or what?"

"Closed fist, actually," she murmured against Daryl's chest. Because even if Merle was a little scary in how he yelled and blustered and seemed to lose his temper for no reason . . . she wasn't actually afraid of him. Maybe it was because he'd never directed any of the physical aggression he'd shown to the other men, towards the women or children in the camp. Yes, he'd been horribly crude and crass towards just about every woman _but_ her . . . he and Andrea had gone at it the worst . . . but he'd never raised a hand up to her even when they were screaming at each other. So even if he wasn't good like Daryl, at least he wasn't bad like Ed.

No . . . she bit her lip . . . Merle seemed to fall somewhere in between.

Even now, she could see how he was just looking at her with a sort of disinterested, half asleep expression. Finally he grunted, "well, you look like shit." Then his attention shot over to Daryl.

"What the fuck is she doin' in here?"

There was clear annoyance in his voice then. And she could feel Daryl's jaw twitch, just before he let out on a grunt, "she's gettin' a new age divorce. I'm gonna break her husband's jaw tomorrow, and maybe castrate him too, you wanna help?"

Merle snorted.

"Pfft, and why should I do that, little brother?" He muttered while flopping back on his pillow, "just so you can get yourself some second hand bush?"

That time Carol could feel Daryl's body tense, and she knew he was about to hit back hard at Merle for insulting her. But after the night she'd had, words like that didn't mean anything. So she quickly squeezed Daryl's hand, just as she cut in softly, "he tried to rape our daughter."

That got Merle's attention. Because she saw his eyes snap back over to hers, right before his jaw twitched. Just once.

"She all right?"

Though he clearly tried to sound like he wasn't interested in the answer, in the glow of the Mag Light, she could see how his fingers had curled into a tight fist. So Carol cleared over the lump in her throat.

"I got there just before," she whispered with a crackle in her voice.

"And that's what you got for gettin' in his way?" He shot back with a jerk of his chin.

Which was when Daryl cut in again.

"She got a lot more than that," he grunted, "tried to rape her too. Her whole body's black and blue and she was spittin' out blood. So," he let out a heavy sigh as his eyes shot across the tent, "whaddya say? You wanna help me break this bitch?"

A moment passed then while Merle just looked over at the two of them. But finally he shrugged.

"Well," his nose wrinkled up, "ain't had any fun in awhile, and baby rapers do deserve to get their balls cut off, so yeah," he sighed, "I guess that might be a way to kill an hour. Just," he scowled, "don't be wakin' me up too early," he reached over to pick up the flashlight from where he'd dropped it next to the blanket, "need my beauty sleep."

Then he snapped the light off.

For a second there was just silence, and then Carol cleared her throat.

"Thank you, Merle."

Her words came out small, and hesitant. And he grunted again, "yeah, yeah, when your jaw's workin' again I'll take a blow job for my troubles."

And Carol's eyes shot up to Daryl's

"Uh, umm . . ."

All she could get out was the stammer, before she saw Daryl shaking his head. Then he patted her hand.

"It's okay baby," he murmured with a brush of his thumb along her wrist, "he's just fuckin' with you."

"Yeah baby," Merle cackled with a smack of his hand down on his pillow, "just fuckin' with ya!"

Words which were a comfort coming from Daryl, clearly were a mockery coming from Merle. But Carol still felt no fear from the older Dixon brother. Whatever his issues were with women, and being a person in general . . . and those issues were clearly VAST . . . he'd just agreed to help Daryl brutalize her monster of a husband. And in Carol's mind, him agreeing to _that_ , was enough for her to ignore some of those "lesser" qualities of his. Bottom line though, the Dixon boys . . . the good one and the bad . . . were the only chance she and her daughter had. And no, the brothers weren't exactly the typical knights in shining armor, their armor was definitely more tarnished than shining . . . but this was the world they lived in.

And these were the type of men you needed to get through it.

So as Carol listened to the sound of Daryl's heart beating in one of her ears, and Merle griping to himself about the God damn chigger bugs in his bedroll, in her other, she gave a hard swallow and closed her eyes . . . and she prayed for these men to stay safe. And she prayed for them to make Ed suffer. And if God would see fit, she prayed that whatever they did with her husband when they were done, that he would die alone . . . and that he would die screaming. And she put all of that out there, because she figured if God maybe _was_ answering her prayers this week, maybe he'd take on a few more. She let out a faint sigh.

 _Couldn't hurt to ask._

* * *

 _A/N 2: So, the twists. Canon of course implied that Ed had a sexual interest in Sophia. And I know I put in an earlier note here, that in how he allowed Carol to pull Sophia away from him at those times he started making creepy comments, it seemed like a new element of his abuse where he was still letting himself get used to the idea of crossing that line, but hadn't gone there yet. And I took that, and ran with it, because I couldn't see Carol, even mousy, terrified season 1 Carol, walking in to see him about to molest or rape their daughter, and turning around and walking out again. As broken and beaten as you are, there is a line, and if you love your child the only way you're allowing that to happen, is if you're deliberately turning a blind eye. And Carol clearly wasn't. She was actively trying to protect her. And with the little bit of confidence she was starting to find in herself again in being around these new people like Lori and Daryl, I felt that rage and horror could be a trigger for her to find a stronger part of herself and finally try and stand up to him. Of course that was never going to work out to her favor, but she tried. And for something like that, trying counts._

 _And even though it was never explicitly covered on the show (at least not that I'm aware of anyway) but it just seemed logical that the stress of the ZA WOULD have escalated the amount and severity of abuse that Ed was doling out to Carol on a regular basis. Assholes like that, beating up the wife is the stress release. So the world falls apart, I can't see how the life of any battered spouse wouldn't get exponentially worse on every level._

 _Yes, I know clearly Merle of later on had no issues with hurting women, but we have nothing in canon to infer he was physically aggressive towards the women around in the camp. Everybody just thought he was a pig and an asshole. Which he was. So I'm chalking his later behavior up to A) him twisting further under the governor's influence, and B) just that he became more messed up after getting left on the roof. He clearly held a 'grudge' about that! :)_

 _I am taking the physical elements of Daryl and Carol's relationship very slowly, and with her being hurt, that obviously keeps them on a snail's pace really. Which is good, because it lets them continue to bond organically, and Daryl can still be all sweet and proper with his 'liberties' while she's getting well :)_

 _And YES, Rick will be turning up soon with many of the high points that Rick's arrival entailed._

 _So, thanks as always for reading! Hope you liked it!_


	7. No Winners Here

**Author's Note** : If you like Merle, we have some Merle bits. There's actually a little bit of everything and almost everybody because things are hitting the fan. To that end, there is some notable, 'nose scrunching' violence here of the 'uck' nature. You have been warned ;) And there is a pic of Ed up with the Tumblr post. He really has a face you want to punch :)

Picking up a few hours later.

* * *

 _Day 6_

 **No Winners Here**

Carol blinked . . . and then blinked again.

Part of her brain was trying to come up out of the depths, and the rest of her just wanted to stay down in the deep. But then she heard a faint murmur cutting into her groggy state.

"Peach, come on, you gotta wake up now."

Daryl.

Of course. That's why that part of her brain was trying to wake up . . . he'd been calling to her. So she blinked for a third time, and the third time was the charm. Because she was able to get her eyes to stay open long enough to tip her head back.

"Hi," she croaked out with another heavy flutter of her lashes, trying to focus in on Daryl's face. Though with the tent so shadowy, even though he was barely six inches away, all she could see was the bare outline.

He did clearly look exhausted though.

"Hey," he murmured back then with a faint quirk of his lip, "I'm sorry, Carol, but we gotta get up." He patted her hip as he started shifting them around, "I got guard duty in ten."

"Oh," she yawned with the back of her hand half over her mouth, "right, right. Guard duty."

It wasn't like she'd forgotten, but GOD, how she wished that they'd been able to get more than three hours of sleep! Because her twenty minutes or so of being knocked unconscious pre two hour beating, sure as hell didn't count as a NAP!

So she tried to push herself up, to get moving like they needed to be moving, but of course Daryl had already shifted back into this new "paladin" mode. And even though she had known that he was a kind man starting from that first day in the woods with the fennel, she still could never have guessed from that, or even those first couple of days that followed, just how protective and truly gentle he really could be. The gruff, grumbly thing really threw you off. Because the way he was with her now, meant that she really didn't have to do anything at all.

Literally, nothing.

The second she put her hand down on the sleeping bag to try and brace herself, he slipped one arm around her waist, and the other around her shoulders, and started to pull her up with him. Which was probably for the best, because even with him doing all of the work there, (and standing now had indeed become 'work') she still couldn't help the moan that she let out when they came to their feet. Of course Daryl immediately froze.

"I'm sorry, baby," he bit out on a stressed whisper while trying to shift his hold, "am I hurtin' you?"

"No, no," she murmured back, "it's not you. It's all him. I feel like I got run over by a semi," she dropped her head to Daryl's chest and closed her eyes, continuing on a mumble, "and then dragged for a mile off the rear bumper. But," she tipped her head back to give him a ghost of a smile . . . it still made her jaw hurt, "I'm still sure it's nothing too serious."

"Hmm," he hummed back on a slow nod, "all right. But don't forget what I said earlier, if you feel like there's anything going on that I need to know, you don't keep it to yourself. 'Cuz I'm gettin' kind of attached here, so if you up and die on me," his voice started to get husky, "I'm gonna pretty fuckin' upset."

Feeling her eyes start to burn, Carol slid her hands down from Daryl's chest, so she could slip her arms around his waist instead. Her intent was to give him the tightest hug that she could manage under the circumstances.

Circumstances being that she had zero physical strength at the moment.

So no, the hug wasn't much. It did seem to make him feel better though, because she could feel how his breathing evened out again. And when that happened, she felt the arm that he had wrapped around her shoulders, tighten just for a second. All it was, was a tiny squeeze, but she knew that was him acknowledging his thanks for what she'd done.

For letting him drop his guard for just a moment.

Then he murmured, "all right, hold here for a second, Peach," just before he let her go with a rub to the hip. And she could see that he had stepped away, so he could lean over and snag up his knives and gun from where he'd laid them out next to his pillow. And even though she wouldn't say it out loud, Carol was finding that it was actually VERY difficult to keep herself upright without any support from him. It was bad enough, that she could feel her legs begin to tremble as she watched him clip his weapons on again. And then when he moved over to pull on his boots, she had to just focus on her breathing, the small shallow, in and out breaths, to keep herself from crumpling back down to the sleeping bag.

Still, she refused to say anything.

It was too ridiculous a thing to accept, that she couldn't stand up on her own for barely forty seconds and counting. Fortunately though, Daryl threw her a glance just then. And he seemed to notice that she wasn't doing so well, because he muttered an, "ah shit, hold on, Peach," right when he was tossing his bow and quiver up on his shoulder.

That was a split second before she started to fold up like an accordion.

He caught her just before she hit the tent floor.

"I swear to you Carol," he started growling in her ear as he hoisted her up into his arms, "that man is gonna be prayin' for death by the time I'm done with him."

Her eyes started to sting again at that, but all she managed for a response was a groan, while she slumped against his chest. That's when her head started to spin, so she closed her eyes, and began counting down from twenty, trying to will away the nausea that was rising up.

Meanwhile, she could feel Daryl moving them around, just before he stooped down to pick something else up.

Her sneakers.

Carol realized that when she felt them being pressed into her hands.

"Just hold onto 'em, Peach." He murmured while hoisting her back up a little higher, "I know you're not up for walkin' now, but I don't like the idea of you being anywhere without your stuff."

"I'm sure I'll be up and around by breakfast," she breathed against his throat, "I just need to get a little more sleep, is all."

Really, all the beatings she'd taken over the years, no matter how bad they were, she'd always gotten up the next morning right on time. Because staying in bed was not an option. Not when Ed would be waiting on his breakfast, and Sophia needed to be fed and sent off to school. A person could do anything with the proper motivation. And for the last ten years she'd been crawling out of that bed half out of fear, half out of love. But all she got back from Daryl for the idea that she'd have no problems getting up in a few hours, was a grunt. Which Carol had already learned meant that he neither agreed, nor disagreed on the topic in question, but at that moment didn't wish to discuss it either way.

Yeah, the man could put a lot into one syllable.

So in the still, pre-dawn hour, he ducked down to take them through the open tent flap, and then he carried her bruised and aching body, out into the cool night air.

It was pretty easy to see with the moonlight.

From there, it was a short walk through the dewy grass past Jim and T-Dog's tents, and then more grass, and an open patch of dirt, before they finally reached the canvas hut that Lori and Carl shared with Shane.

How the three of them had come together by circumstance, and had started to form into a small, de-facto family, was a point that Carol was strangely starting to understand much better today, than she had yesterday. Because she could see now, in how she'd so quickly become attached to Daryl . . . and the care that he'd already shown her and Sophia in return . . . that sometimes people fell together at times, and for reasons, that they never would have expected.

Let alone ever planned.

And when they reached that zippered red flap of a door, with her still in his arms, Daryl stooped down to a crouch and let out a faint bird like wakeup call. A split second later it was an even softer, "psst, Shane, it's Daryl. Open up." Then he gave it a three count, and right before it seemed like another "psst" would be necessary, there was a faint rustling from inside.

Then the zipper started going up.

The first thing Carol saw in that muted moonlight was Shane's rifle, and then the second thing she saw was his half asleep face.

"What's wro . . .?"

He didn't even get the whole question out, before he seemed to suddenly focus in on her face . . . which at her height on Daryl's knee . . . was directly in front of his.

And then.

"Holy shit, Carol!" he hissed in horror, "what in the hell?!" And then his eyes suddenly widened and snapped over to Daryl's.

"Ed?" He bit out, now with a clear ratcheting of anger in his tone. Of course it was no match for the tone that came back from Daryl, who growled out, "piss bucket motherfuckin' piece of shit, beat her black and blue."

Before Shane could respond, Carol heard more rustling, right before the flap was pulled up on the other side. And then Lori was inching Shane over. She was yawning out a, "what's going . . .?" when again, the question fell away. And again, Carol saw an occupant of that tent suck in a breath, right before the sleep cleared from their faces, and their eyes flashed red.

"That bastard," she cursed.

And then just like with Shane, Lori's attention snapped away from Carol's injuries and over to the man holding her.

"Daryl Dixon if you don't handle this today," she hissed, "I swear to God I'm taking one of the guns and I'll go deal with it _myself_!"

The way she yelled at him, that was the moment when Carol realized those two had talked about what to do about Ed before. That they'd been trying to find a way to save her . . . her eyes started to burn . . . before she was even ready to save herself.

"All right," Daryl grunted back to Lori, "just calm yourself woman. I already talked to Merle, and we're takin' care of it first thing. Probably around seven or so. It shouldn't take long, but for what we got planned for him, it's gonna be a mess. 'Cuz um . . ."

Then his eyes suddenly darted over to over to Carol.

"You wanna tell 'em what he did, Peach?" He asked softly, "or you want me to do it?"

Realizing then that Daryl was trying to let her take back some control of her fate . . . the bruises on her body could no longer be hidden, but it was her choice to tell the story of how she got them as she saw fit . . . Carol gave his fingers a hard squeeze from where they were resting on her hip. Then, with her eyes watering, she looked back over to Lori.

"Ed tried to rape Sophia."

Her voice cracked when she said it, just like it had when she'd told Merle. But each time she voiced those terrible words out loud, Carol found her heart breaking all over again. Because she still hadn't fully processed that her husband had gone that far.

That he was truly that evil.

And after she spoke, Carol could see both Shane and Lori wince and look down. And then Shane's jaw was twitching, and Lori's eyes were filling with tears.

She reached over to touch Carol's knee.

"How far did he get?" She whispered, with her own crackle in her voice. And feeling her eyes begin to burn, Carol started to gnaw on her swollen lip.

"Far enough for her to know what he was about to do," she sniffled, "but I got there before he got her shorts off."

Carol's voice broke there at the end. And then Lori was stepping out there in her nightgown, and when she reached down to take her hands, Daryl was helping her stand up there in the wet grass.

Then Lori was pulling her into a hug.

"I'm so sorry, hon," she murmured with a squeeze so tight that it made Carol's eyes water. But before she could she could say anything back like "PLEASE GOD DON'T DO THAT!" she heard Daryl bark, "hey, you need to go easy there, woman! She's covered in fresh bruises, back and front."

Of course Lori immediately jumped back then, murmuring, "oh God I'm sorry." Then she let her hands slide down to loosely grasp Carol's forearms as she gave her a very frightened once over. And while she was doing that, Daryl continued on by bringing his hand up.

He pointed to her side.

"He did the worst damage on her left," he continued softly, "so you gotta make sure she's extra careful with her ribs on that side, 'cuz she's got a hell of a bruise coming up. Her kidneys are kind of a mess too though, and her stomach, and she did cough up a little blood but uh," his worried eyes shot back over to lock onto Carol's as he finished tightly, "we're pretty sure now that was just some you swallowed down from the nose, right Peach?"

"Yep," she reached back to snag his fingers . . . partly as a thank you for how sweet and protective he was being, partly because she still needed some additional bracing to keep steady, "right. We're pretty sure." Then she looked back to Lori . . . who now looked even more horrified than before.

"I'll be all right," she whispered to the other woman with a nod, "I've taken worse than this."

Lori's jaw twisted then as one of those tears that had been pooling in her eyes, began to slide down her cheek.

"I am so sorry this happened, hon," she bit her lip, "I knew something was wrong when you came here, so I should have insisted that you stay with us."

"No," Carol shook her head as she sniffled again, "it wouldn't have mattered what you'd said. I'd needed to go back for my own reasons. You wouldn't have been able to talk me out of it."

They were all quiet for a second, and then Daryl let out a slow tight breath, right before he turned back to Shane who was standing behind Lori.

There was a hard edge on Daryl's tone when he spoke.

"I got guard duty 'til six, so I need your word you're gonna keep her and Sophia safe until I'm free, or I'm just carrying 'em up on the roof with me."

Shane was already shaking his head before Daryl had finished speaking.

"That asshole isn't getting anywhere near them," he growled back, "don't worry about that. And once the sun's up we'll stash them in the RV until everything else gets uh," he jerked his head, "sorted."

"Sorted my ass!" Daryl snarled, "I'm gonna cut off his balls, and then break every fuckin' bone in that motherfucker's body!"

That time Shane just shrugged.

"Whatever you want to do him man," his lips pursed, "you got no argument from me. And I don't think anybody else will give you any shit either, not once they know what he did, but," he nodded, "I'll speak up if anyone starts out on the wrong side of this."

For a second Daryl just stared over at this cop who he'd been buttin' heads with from day one. Nine days in and apparently they'd finally found a topic with some common ground. He bit back a sigh.

If only Carol and Sophia hadn't had to suffer so, to push 'em over the top.

Speaking of Carol though, before he made the move to leave, Daryl reached over to slide his arm back around her waist again. Then he walked her over a few steps towards the back end of Lori and Shane's tent. And when Carol turned around, and her hands came up to settle on his chest, he shot the other couple a quick scowl, because he could God damn well see that they were starin' at 'em. Like it was inconfuckinceivable that he might actually be capable of regular people stuff like havin' a lady friend!

Jackasses!

So he waited until they'd both looked away . . . Lori took longer to do it of course, because women tended to be snoopy about things that did not concern them . . . but then finally the other two started whispering to each other. And that's when Daryl turned back to Carol where his expression immediately softened, just as he wrapped her up in a very loose hug.

Then he leaned down to press his lips to her ear.

"You get some more rest, baby," he whispered with a very slow exhale and a pat to her hip, "and I promise you that this'll all be over before the sun's full up."

All he got back from Carol for that promise, was a faint hum as she pressed her cheek a little tighter against his throat. And he knew she was scared, and she was hurtin,' and not just in a physical way. And even though Daryl did trust she'd be safe stayin' there with Shane and Lori, he really hated so much that he had to leave her at all. But he'd already told T-Dog he'd cover this shift, so that's what he had to do. Course if he'd known how his evenin' was gonna GO, he woulda just said they'd break even tomorrow. But . . . he took a deep breath . . . sometimes shit happens you don't plan for.

And you just gotta deal.

Still, he didn't wanna just leave Carol in the state that she was, 'cuz he knew she'd never fall back to sleep. So he tipped his head to the side, thinking for a second, just before his lips pressed together.

He'd got an idea.

"I got something for ya," he murmured then while taking his hand off of Carol's hip, to reach over to his belt.

"What?" Carol whispered back, trying to see in the shadows what it was that Daryl was fussing with. It took a second, but then he brought his arm back up again, and he held the object out right in front of her face. That's when she could see it clearly.

It was one of his hunting knives.

One of the big ones.

"Okay," he continued quietly, while sliding the sheath back so she could see the blade, "this is yours now, Peach. And when you're feelin' better I'll show you all the ways to use it proper, but for now just remember," he gave her a look, "if something comes at ya, it don't matter if it's living or dead, just hold tight to the handle, and you jam this into its eyeball, hard as you can," he made a stabbing motion off to the side, "pointy side first. And this blade goes through eyeballs like butter," he balanced it out on the palm of his hand, "so you don't gotta be strong to make it work."

For a second Carol just stared down at the knife, somewhat transfixed. Because she'd never had any means of defending herself before. She would've felt foolish even thinking that she _could_ defend herself. But as she slowly reached out to take the leather wrapped blade from Daryl's hand, she didn't feel foolish at all. Because she knew that this was a man who took his weapons seriously. And if he was giving one of them to her for protection, it was because he believed that she could use it.

He believed in her.

So she let out a slow breath before she tipped her head back to give him a grateful smile.

"Thank you."

"No need for that," Daryl quickly brushed off the praise with a faint scowl, "I just want you to be safe, and I figure if you got something to defend yourself, it might help you sleep a little better."

"It will," her brow scrunched as she gave him a sharp nod, "it definitely will."

"All right then," he let out a heavy sigh as he slipped his hand into his pocket to pull out the four extra Vicodin he'd swiped from Merle, "so in case you need another, I'm gonna give you these now too." He reached over and slipped his hand into her front pants pocket to drop the pills in, "and um," he pulled his hand back with a slight scrunch of his brow, "stick to halves if you can, to make 'em last, because I don't think I can grab anymore without him noticing. But that knife," he looked down to the blade in Carol's hand, "it'll cut them up good, but maybe let Shane do it if you need one before I get back, because you want to make a hard chop, so it don't powder up on you."

"Okay," Carol bit her lip, "thanks. But I think I'll try and hold off until at least nine if I can, so," she gave him a shy smile, "I'll wait for you."

His lip quirked up.

"Okay," he whispered just before he shot a look off towards the RV, "and now I gotta get going," his eyes snapped back to hers, "or I'm gonna owe Glenn some time too."

So with that, he slipped his arm back around Carol's waist, and walked them over to where Shane and Lori were still whisperin' by the tent door. And given how those two immediately shut up when they got there, Daryl had to figure he and Carol were the topic of the conversation. Not that he cared. Maybe tomorrow he would, but not tonight.

There was too much else on his mind.

Though when Lori started to reach out to take Carol's arm. . . because it was clear to anyone with working eyeballs that she still wasn't steady on her feet . . . Daryl held on for a second.

He gave the other woman a look.

"You make sure she don't try to help with none of the chores today," he said seriously, "she just needs to rest."

And knowing Carol was giving him her own look for sayin' that, his eyes snapped back over to hers.

"Sorry, Peach," he continued in a softer tone, "I ain't trying to mind your business for ya, 'cuz I know you already had enough of a man doin' that. But," he brought his hand up to ghost over her bruised cheek, "you got bruises on top of bruises Carol, and you need to give yourself at least a day to heal up some, or you're gonna be in a real bad way."

Though Carol wanted to argue, she realized then that she had no real argument to make. Not when she was in the process of being passed over from Daryl to Lori, because she was _literally_ unable to keep a steady footing all by herself.

So though it did hurt her pride a little to know that she really wasn't well enough to pitch in, she still managed to conjure up a faint smile for Daryl. And that was because he cared enough just to want her to be well.

It'd been so many years since she'd had that.

"I'll let somebody else make the coffee today," she whispered over to him. And he shot her a wink then, right before he brushed his thumb over her (uninjured) cheek.

"See ya in a bit."

Then his arm slipped off her waist, and while he was shifting his bow around on his shoulder, he started off towards the RV. For a second she just watched him go, but then she felt Lori give a light tug on her forearm.

Carol's eyes snapped up to hers.

"Come on," the younger woman whispered while moving to slide her arm up and around her shoulders, "let's get some sleep."

"Right," Carol swallowed, "sleep."

So with Shane holding the tent flap up for them, Lori helped her through the canvas doorway.

When they stepped inside, Carol could see that there was a small flashlight flicked on, and lying out on the floor by the door. It threw just enough light along by their feet, to see the layout of the tent. And in front of her, Carol could see from the pillows, and the arrangement of children still soundly sleeping on them, that for bedtime, Lori and Shane had put the kids in between them, with the adults on either end. And even in shadows Carol could see her daughter curled up in a little ball on what looked to be Lori's side of the oversized bedroll.

Though Sophia's face was actually directed towards Carl on her other side.

The children's bodies were just a few inches apart. A tear slid down Carol's cheek . . . and they were holding hands in their sleep.

"I laid down there and held her until she'd cried herself out," Lori whispered then, her voice breaking a bit, "I wish I'd known what had happened because maybe I could've thought of something to say. But Carl," she sniffled as she looked down at the two children curled together, with just that tiny gap between them, "he was so sweet. When he saw that she couldn't stop crying, he laid down there on the blankets next to us, and after maybe a minute he reached over and took her hand. That was the first time I felt her breath catch, so I think it made her feel better."

Feeling her heart ache at the thought of that sweet little boy comforting her daughter, Carol turned to give Lori a grateful nod. Her eyes were watering.

"Thank you for raising a good boy," She whispered with a teary, pain filled, smile.

And while she was putting put her arm out to help Carol towards Sophia's other side, Lori gave a slow nod.

"A lot of that's his father," she murmured sadly, "he was a good man." Then she added a bit hesitantly, "it seems like you might be getting one of those yourself now."

Feeling her cheeks start to get a bit warm, because she knew that Shane could hear them talking . . . he was zipping up the door of the tent . . . Carol's hand instinctively tightened around the knife that Daryl had given to her.

So it wasn't until Lori had helped her down to the sleeping bag, that she turned her head, and whispered back, very faintly, "he's been amazing."

Lori huffed a bit at that as she lowered herself down to the last edge of the quilted material.

"Yeah," she hummed, "he's got some rough edges on him but," she bit her lip, "these last couple of days, that man's definitely shown he's got a really good heart buried in there."

Knowing that she'd start to cry if she focused in too much on that, on him, Carol just breathed out a, "yeah, he does." Then she slowly, and VERY painfully, shifted around so that she could curl up behind Sophia.

She tucked the still sheathed knife down in between them.

Once everyone was all settled in, and Shane had turned the small flashlight off, Lori leaned over to press her lips to Carol's ear.

"Why does he call you Peach?'

Carol bit her lip for a second, not sure if she should say. If maybe Daryl would think that was private. But then she figured if he was going to call her that in front of other people . . . which he had, hence the question . . . then he couldn't really be considering it a big secret or anything.

Besides . . . she took in a small breath . . . it was a nice thing. And maybe if Lori knew why he called her that, then she'd see how gentle he was.

She'd see him how Carol saw him.

So she turned her head to shoot her friend a shy smile . . . she could just barely make her out in the shadows.

"He said it's because he thinks I'm sweet," she whispered happily, "like a Georgia peach."

Lori blinked and bit her lip.

"That's actually really romantic," she huffed back in surprise. Then she rolled over muttering to herself, "Daryl Dixon, closet romantic." She shook her head.

"Never saw that coming."

/*/*/*/*/

Things with Ed did not go according to Daryl's plan.

Because the _plan_ , in Daryl's head anyhow, was to finish his walker shift at six when Morales came on board, grab a cup of coffee from whoever had made it by then, go back to Lori's tent and collect Carol and Sophia, then bring those two back on up to the RV, to get them locked inside with Dale and his Remington. And he was expecting by _that_ point, it'd be coming up on round about six-thirty and that would be late enough to grab up Merle . . . asshole could just go back to bed afterwards if he wanted to . . . and then go drag the still sleepin' Ed ('cuz word was, Ed never showed his face before eight am) up and outta his tent, by the scruff of his greasy, scuzzball, wife beatin', baby rapin', neck. So yeah, the plan was pretty simple.

It still got seriously fucked up.

'Cuz what happened _instead_ , was that Daryl finished his shift on the roof at six when Morales came on board. Then he stopped to grab that cup of coffee from the pot Jacqui had just made. And then, with it bein' about quarter after the hour, on his way back to Lori's tent to collect Carol and Sophia . . . he got jumped walking by T-Dog and Jim's tents.

By Ed.

Yeah, that motherfucker woke up EARLY! And apparently noting how his wife was missing, and putting somethin' and somethin' together . . . he'd figured that Daryl Dixon mighta had something to do with that disappearance. Apparently he did have some workin' brain cells in there.

Nobody saw that comin.'

But either way, that was how Daryl ended up lyin' flat out on the ground, on his back, about halfway between his tent and Lori's, with a lump on his forehead, Ed's thirty eight jammed into his belly . . . his own gun had been ripped off his belt and thrown over his head . . . and Ed's nasty fuckin' breath blowin' in his face. Seriously how the hell Carol put up with that shit, he did not know.

That breath alone shoulda been just cause to kill him years ago.

So he'd just had about a minute of gaggin' on that shit, while Ed screamed loud enough to wake the dead, about, "that bitch!" and "where was he hiding her?!" and Daryl's rage was just spiking higher and higher. His whole body was practically vibratin' he was so much in a fury. And he was just about ready to buck up, flip Ed over on his ass, yank that pistol outta his hand and beat him within an inch of his sorry ass life with it, when suddenly he heard a very particular sound come from behind him.

It was the sound of a shotgun being cocked.

"Mornin' motherfucker," Merle growled as he pressed the barrel directly against Ed's greasy forehead.

Apparently he'd heard the ruckus.

Most likely EVERYONE had heard the ruckus, but Jesus, the look that came over Ed's face then, damn, Daryl really wished that cameras were still a thing. So while that asshole was still hunched over, frozen half on top of him, Daryl reached out and plucked the pistol out of his hand.

Then he bashed him across the side of the head with it.

Plan back on track.

And when Ed slumped back on his haunches, blood dripping down his face now from the gash on his temple, Daryl hit him with the pistol again.

That time across the jaw.

Again, blood started pouring . . . that time from his cut lip. And when Ed tried to bring his hands up to defend himself, that's when Daryl . . . who was still on the ground himself . . . pulled his leg back, brought his boot up, and kicked him in the face. Ed's nose shattered.

Gore splattered out everywhere from that one.

And when Ed fell down to the ground, coverin' his head and hollerin', "DON'T HIT ME! DON'T HIT ME!" like a little bitch, Daryl pushed himself to his feet and jammed that gun into his back waistband. His breath was coming hard and fast like a locomotive on a train. Not that he was winded from taking those few blows that he had, it was the adrenaline.

And that rage.

That rage especially was still building. Because this pathetic pantywaist, motherfucker couldn't even take THREE hits without curling up like a baby! And then you had Carol who was still WALKING last night after two HOURS of this shit!

Daryl's eyes were practically shooting sparks when they snapped over to Merle's.

"Can you believe this candy ass BITCH?" He snarled.

"Seriously man," Merle tipped his head, staring down at Ed with a mixture of confusion and disgust, "Daddy gave me worse that Christmas mornin' when I asked why Santa didn't leave nothin' under the tree but a carton of smokes."

Then with a grunt, he reached down to grab Ed by the back of his hair.

"I was eight years old then," he continued with a hiss, "and I never cried once gettin' my face bashed in. But," he dropped his boot down on Ed's throat with a sneer, "not sure what else we shoulda expected from a baby raper like yourself.

Then he made a kissy face at Ed, right before he leaned down close to whisper in his ear.

"Your ass is ours now, sweetheart."

And when Ed's eyes popped wide with a whole new level of fear and horror . . . by Daryl's estimate that idiot was clearly picturin' some Deliverance type shit was gonna happen, and Daryl was happy to let him run wild with that one . . . Daryl jerked his head off to the left.

"We can't do the rest right here," he muttered to Merle, "Sophia's too close. It'll scare her."

As it was, they'd already drawn a full crowd. Everybody was up, half dressed in their jammies, keeping their distance but still close enough to see the show. And when Daryl dared to spare a look down towards Lori's tent about twelve paces off, he could see Shane standing outside, with his arms crossed at his chest, holding his Glock.

Behind him the tent was sealed up tight.

And as Daryl's eyes made contact with the cop, who in this ONE area he could at least call an ally, the other man gave him a sharp nod. It was clearly a 'go for it' move. And that was just as Merle let out a grunt of, "we'll take him behind the RV."

So with that, his brother dragged the already bloodied and sniveling Ed up to his feet. And with his shotgun jammed into the side of his throat, and his finger still on the trigger . . . it'd be nice if Merle tripped . . . he started frog marchin' that asshole across the camp.

And after Daryl had slipped his currently unneeded bow and quiver down off his shoulder and dropped them next to T-Dog's tent . . . he'd pick 'em up later . . . he trailed on after the other two.

He just followed the drops of blood.

It was as he was cutting around the fire pit where the Harrison sisters were huddled together with Dale, that Daryl saw he was gettin' some serious looks. So he threw back one of his own.

"You people got somethin' to say?"

For a second they all just stared up at him, their eyes wide as saucers. And then Dale looked over at Ed . who was just about to disappear behind the RV with Merle . . . just before his eyes snapped back up to Daryl's.

"Was what Merle said over there, true," he hissed in disbelief, "did Ed really _rape_ one of the children?!"

"He tried to last night with Sophia," Daryl answered quietly, his eyes locked onto the other man's, watching as they widened in horror, "Carol stopped it, and then he beat her within an inch of her life. So," his jaw twisted, "Ed's got a reckoning comin' for him."

His eyebrow twitched as his attention snapped over to Andrea, to see what she had to say now. 'Cuz she ALWAYS had something to say about everything.

"You got a problem with our plan here, lawyer lady?" He asked sarcastically, just daring her to set him off. But she surprised him with the emotions he could see swirlin' on her face . . . anger and disbelief.

And sadness.

Then, with her eyes locked onto his, she slowly shook her head.

"I have no problem with that plan," she waved her hand, "have at it." Then her eyes started to water as she turned away, scrubbing at her jaw.

"We should've done something about him before," she murmured to herself, "this is on all of us."

And with a teary Amy at her side, murmuring, "that poor baby," the Harrison sisters turned and walked off together towards the field.

"Are you gonna beat him to death, son?"

Dale again.

Daryl slowly dragged his eyes away from the two blondes with their heads together, to look back at the older man.

"No," his jaw clenched as his attention shifted up and over to the trailer where he could hear Ed squealing just beyond . . . Merle was up to something, "we're gonna stop a little before that. Then we'll let God sort the rest."

"Can I help?"

That time it was Glenn who had just popped up behind him. And Daryl spun around to look over in disbelief.

"What'd you think _YOU'RE_ gonna help with?!" He shot back with a scowl.

"Whatever you're doing to him," Glenn answered with a quiet fury, "I'd like to help. I like Sophia, and I don't like assholes who mess with little kids."

And though Daryl had been ready to tell that kid to just get out of his face with that bullshit . . . like he could take on _ED_ , fucker was three times his size(!) . . . seeing how serious Glen was, and how _angry_ he was, Daryl found his tone softening instead.

"Short Round," he leaned in and poked him in the chest, "trust me when I say, you do not want any part of this if you have plans for sleepin' anytime soon."

When Glenn's jaw started to drop . . . he was about to make an argument . . . Daryl gave him a hard look.

"You don't know what we're gonna do to him," his jaw twisted as his voice deepened "it's not just a beat down. This is old school, eye for an eye for what he did. So," Daryl waved his hand, "you wanna help, you dig me a hole for the cleanup."

Glenn blinked.

"A hole? But I thought you weren't going to kill him?"

It was clear that Glenn didn't know what he was talking about in terms of "eye for an eye," but before Daryl could explain, Dale cut in.

"They're gonna castrate him, son," he said quietly, "just make the hole big enough for what they take off."

"Oh shit," the younger man sputtered then as his hand dropped down to cover his crotch, "oh yeah, I don't know if I could do that."

"Didn't think so," Daryl muttered back, before bringing his hands up to start gesturing, "so just dig the hole. Make it about two foot deep and a foot wide. Won't have but a couple small things to put in it, but we don't want the animals digging 'em up."

Apparently Glenn was picturing that happening, because he'd started to turn a bit green, when suddenly a sharp scream came out from behind the RV. That was followed immediately by a panicked, "NO, NO, NO, NO, NO!" and Daryl's jaw clenched.

"That's my cue."

His last words came out on a growl. And with that, and his teeth digging into his lip, he took a deep breath, and started up the hill on a jog.

As he came around the front end of the trailer, again he could hear Ed's not so quiet sobbing, and Daryl still felt nothing but that rage. Rage that this man existed, and rage that he had done those horrible things to his wife and child. And rage that with the world over, and all the law gone away, that cleaning up messes like this had fallen to men like him and his brother.

The only ones here willing to do these terrible things.

And as he came up around the corner, with his hands curling into fists, he could see the specific source now of Ed's screaming. Merle had been playing barber shop with his hunting knife.

There were tiny little nicks all along the soft underside of that gorilla like jaw.

Little did Ed know though, Merle was a master at barber shop. He'd learned it from daddy, who used to get drunk and practice on his boys. And they all knew just where, and how deep, to make those cuts, to cause the most panic, and the least actual damage.

It was a Dixon family skill.

And when Daryl's eyes made contact with Merle's over the head of the bloodied, COMPLETELY panic stricken man, his brother gave him a wicked grin.

"This was a nice way to spend an hour," he said with a shake of his knife . . . bloody droplets flew onto the grass, "thank you for the invitation."

"Yeah," Daryl gave him a sharp nod, "no problem. So whaddya been up to?"

"Well," Merle tapped the blade against Ed's carotid, "while you was pussyfooting around down there, we had us a game of barber shop, and before that," he jerked his chin down to Ed's severely mangled hands.

"We broke some fingers," he looked up with a smirk, "all of 'em."

"Hmm," Daryl grunted, "so that was the squealin'."

Then he walked up and stooped down in front of Ed. He tipped his head to the side.

"You sounded like a little piggy squealing," he continued on with a scrunch of his nose, "ain't never heard a man make that sound," his lip quirked up then in a cold smile, "'cept when he was making new friends in the prison shower."

Seeing Ed's eyes widen as his breath quickened . . . there were bloody snot bubbles popping out of his nose . . . Daryl knew he'd put that "Deliverance" thought back in his head again. And that was the point of the comment.

To fuck with his head.

Now it was time to get down to business. So Daryl rolled his neck.

"Okay, so," he let out a hard breath, "you're a sick motherfucker and that's why we're here. And you've probably done more shit than we'll ever know about, but for what's happenin' to you today," he shot him a disgusted look, "it's for what you done to your family. And you can consider everything we do to you here, comin' direct from your wife. This is a new world divorce. She's done with you now."

"That bitch doesn't get to be done with me!" Ed growled back, "I'm gonna fucking KILL . . ."

And that's when Daryl's fist shot out and clocked him in the forehead . . . Ed's head snapped back like a Pez dispenser, and in the process Merle ended up slashing his cheek open with his bowie knife. Of course, like the pussy he was, Ed screamed again at that.

Like it wasn't his own damn fault for moving.

"And so you know before we really get started here," Daryl continued on like he hadn't been interrupted, "Carol's mine now. We've actually been screwin' all week."

Seeing Ed's eyes widen with shock, Daryl smiled. Another real cold one.

"Yeah, I thought you should know. And that little mole on her left hip," he nodded appreciatively, "I really like that. And what _she_ really likes, is gettin' to ride a real dick again. She said yours was kinda," Daryl's nose wrinkled, "limp and skinny. Sorta like a Twizzler"

Merle let out a fresh cackle at that. Ed though, a fury came into his eyes then, a blackness, and Daryl understood what Carol had meant about the evil that would come out in him when he was pushed far enough. And thinking about how terrifyin' that must've been for her, living with this man, and seeing that look on his face when he came after her, it just made him feel sick. So he decided he was done with the mental games. Besides he'd done all the damage he needed to do there, because it was fuckin' KILLING Ed right now thinking he'd been with his wife, and they'd talked about his little dick.

And him goin' crazy on that, would be the last real thought in his head.

So while Ed was still staring daggers up at him, Daryl slowly came up to his feet. And before Ed knew what was happening, Daryl'd brought his boot back . . . and he kicked that asshole in the jaw, hard as he could. And he could kick pretty fuckin' hard, 'cuz that jaw BROKE. Literally, a whole mess of teeth went flying off into the grass, and the jaw itself was fuckin' hanging there half off his face on one side.

Like his face was a mask that was just put on crooked.

The sound that Ed made then, it was like a half gasp, half screech as he brought his broken hands up to his face . . . his fingers just dangled though.

So at that point he was huddled over, with tears and snot running down and mixing in with the blood that was already just everywhere. And even with that mangled jaw he started tryin' to plead for his life. Like Daryl wanted his life.

What he wanted was his sufferin'.

And was gonna get that in spades. Because his only response to those pleas for mercy, was to gesture over to Merle.

"Bitch ain't near to broke yet."

So with his brother pinning him down, and cackling the whole time, Daryl started pounding on Carol's husband like he was a weight bag in the gym. First thing he did was go for the ribs, breaking one after another, feelin' those hard bones crackin' under his fists as Ed squirmed and screamed. Though it was kind of a muffled scream, what with the jaw half hanging off and all.

But it was around the time he'd finished breaking those rib bones, that Daryl's hands started hurtin' . . . he really shoulda wrapped 'em up first . . . so he moved on to the stompin'. A few kicks to the chest to leave some good internal damage there, then he had Merle roll him over, so Daryl could take special care with Ed's kidneys. And he did that because Ed had so often, taken special care with Carol's.

That's where Ed blacked out for a few seconds.

They waited 'til he woke up to continue on, because there was no point in any of it, if he didn't feel every hit comin' in. But Daryl was gettin' a little winded . . . it was awkward doin' all this shit on the ground . . . so he let Merle step in then, because Merle had a few special things he liked to do.

One of 'em was kneecaps.

Yeah, his brother did love to kneecap a fella, so Daryl gladly let him handle that part. Because he'd seen him do it before when he was collecting on drug debts, and it was always a horrible crackin' sound. Like breaking a turtle's shell. For this time, Merle did it with a big rock instead of his old world baseball bat. It didn't matter though how it was done, all that mattered was that Ed wouldn't be walking again.

Likely not ever.

Then when he was done with that . . . more screaming from Ed of course . . . Merle went on to stomp his junk into jelly. And he kicked him so many times down there, that Ed finally passed out again, mid-scream. That was after he'd shit himself . . . he'd long since pissed himself . . . and there was blood oozing out from his crotch area too.

Daryl could see it coming out on the grass.

And while he was passed out for that second time, Daryl popped his Bowie knife off his belt, and leaned over to slice Ed's shirt down the front. He wanted to see how bad he looked. And already there were boot marks, and some real ugly black swelling showin' up all over his chest. Merle gave a sharp nod.

"Did good, little brother."

"Hmm," Daryl hummed, "ain't done yet. Still got that last thing." Then his eyes shot up to his brother's.

"You wanna do it?"

God was he praying that Merle'd say yes, because Daryl'd never cut off a man's balls before. And that wasn't really on his to do list, 'cuz it was one of those things he worried about coming back from.

But he could see God wasn't grantin' him this favor, 'cuz Merle just gave a jerk of his chin.

"Naw man," his brother snorted, "you're the one that's been fuckin' his wife, you earned the trophy."

Before Daryl could explain how he'd just made that up to mess with Ed's head, the topic of their conversation started to come around again.

The second that he came up conscious though, he just started weeping like Daryl had never seen a man do before. Then he started garblin' something with that slack jaw, and it took a second but he figured out it was, "no more, no more."

Daryl's jaw clenched then. And he leaned down to spit in his face.

"How many times did your WIFE say that to you, right before you hit her again?! So _HERE_ ," he gave a stomp on one of those broken hands, " _we_ decide when you're done, motherfucker, and we ain't FINISHED yet!"

They were at the end though. The point where Daryl's torn and bloody knuckles, which were really aching somethin' fierce, had finished their part in the day. That's when he held the bowie knife up in front of Ed's face. By then both his eyes were half swollen shut, but still somehow they managed to pop.

"No," he gargled out, just as Daryl brought that blade down quick, and slashed through the belt on his's pants.

It went through like butter.

Then with another flick of his wrist, the button went flying off into the grass. It landed somewhere with the teeth. After that he used the tip of the blade to catch the edge of the zipper.

He slowly inched it down, watching Ed's eyes fill up with fresh tears as he did.

But all that did was ENRAGE Daryl! Because he was picturing Sophia in this exact position knowin' what her daddy was gonna do to her. He felt a stab in his chest.

That poor baby.

Then Ed let out a mangled whimper of, "you cock sucking rednecks gonna rape me now I can't defend myself."

And Daryl leaned in close.

"Well that is what you tried to do to your little girl, isn't it?" He snarled, "you tried to _rape_ that child. And then your wife too. But you couldn't get it up for her 'cuz you're a SICK FUCK!"

That last part he screamed, and spittle flew all over Ed's face.

Then before he could think about it anymore, he slashed that blade out again, that time cutting through the elastic of the blood and piss covered tighty whities there in front of him.

Inside there though, Jesus, it was a disgusting sight. Bad enough to make Daryl pause for just a second. Because the twig and berries he found in that case, were so bloodied and swollen purple and black from Merle stompin' on them, that they didn't really look much like they were human anymore. There was blood just oozing outta everything.

His dick was almost spurtin' it.

Hell, there was NO chance, that shit wasn't already permanent, broke. But bein' broke wasn't enough. It needed to just be gone. 'Cuz there was NOTHING you could do to a man that was worse than that.

So that's what Ed had comin'.

That was the last real thought Daryl had on the matter, before he let himself think about Sophia again, and then he let his rage take over. It was the only way to do what he needed to do. Castrate a man like he only ever had a deer.

And the deer had already been dead.

The scream that came out of Ed when Daryl made the first slash into that first ball, even with that broken jaw, Jesus, that sound was something else. Worse even than the jaw itself breakin'. But then Merle bashed him in the face again, that time with the butt of the shotgun.

Then everything around them was still.

So Daryl finished what he'd started. His hand was shaking the whole time, but he got it done. And he decided to just take off the whole package. Because even if by some fuckin' miracle didn't Ed die in the next few days, Daryl wanted to make sure all that was left was a half man.

Because that's all he ever was anyway.

By the time he was done, Daryl's hands were drenched in gore. And that twig and those berries, they were lying out there on the grass, slick with blood, but still so sickly and swollen. It was dumb, but it was almost like part of his brain was thinking like they'd deflate or something when they got cut off.

Like that's how it worked.

It wasn't of course, but . . . he slowly, and somewhat unsteadily, pushed himself to his feet . . . sometimes your brain thought dumb things. It couldn't be helped. And as he stared down at this pathetic, bruised and bloodied, half naked man lying mutilated on the ground, he tried to think if there was anything more to be done. Because this was a one and done deal.

He wasn't dealing with this asshole ever again.

But Ed's jaw and nose were broke, and given how one eye had gone a nasty milky red, he probably had one of those detached retina things. Merle had had one once that took about a month to heal with some surgery and a patch on it, but for purposes these days, something like that meant Ed was permanent blind there on the right. Beyond that, every one of his ribs on the left were busted . . . that was special for Carol . . . and then of course all the fingers on both hands had been snapped one by one. That was the Merle special. Plus the knee caps.

The other Merle special.

Yeah, Ed was a fucking mess and a half. And oh look . . . Daryl's jaw twitched . . . he was waking up.

Again.

The second that his eyes opened though, he started to sob and moan again, but considerin' how his package had been taken off, by Daryl's estimate, it was the first time he had cause for real bitchin'. But he still held no sympathy there. He just held his knife up, right in front of that mangled face.

"Did you want me to cut your tongue off too?"

The words were spoken very softly, and very calmly, because Daryl's anger was gone then.

He was just tired.

It seemed to frighten Ed more that he was acting the way he was, because even though he kept crying, he clammed up right quick. Then Daryl scrubbed his bloody hand across his pants.

"So," he sighed, "we're done now. If you were thinkin' we were gonna rape ya, well," his eyes hardened, " _we,_ don't do shit like that," he shook his head, "we ain't even gonna kill ya. We're just gonna let you die over there in the field. It should be slow," he nodded, "and right painful. But after what you did to your family, that's the death you earned for yourself. And you remember that as you're dying," his voice faded, "this was the settling up for all the evil you did."

For a second Ed just stared back with this horrible look on that horrible Halloween mask face. Then he garbled out, "you can't leave me like this."

And Daryl smiled. It was his first real smile since he'd last seen Carol, probably three hours earlier.

"We can leave you like this," he answered back with a slow nod, "and we will leave you like this, because nobody cares about you, Ed. Nobody ever did."

Then Daryl slowly pushed himself up to his feet again, and turned to call over his shoulder.

"Glenn!"

It took a second but then he saw that kid's head pop up around the front corner of the RV.

"Yeah?"

Daryl's brow knitted together, "you finish the hole?"

"Yep," Glenn's eyes drifted over to the body behind him, then he winced as his attention snapped back, "uh, I uh," he stammered for a second as he blinked over and over, "I did it over on the far end of the field, by that fat pine tree. And um," he took two steps closer then and tossed him a balled up rag, "I got something for you."

"Thought you might want that," he added quietly as Daryl caught the grease stained cloth.

"Yeah," Daryl nodded, "thanks. And uh," he jerked his head off towards the tents, "go tell Shane it's done, and I'm puttin' him on his cop cleanup, 'cuz I gotta," he started unfolding the rag with a sniff, "go bury this shit."

Then he turned around to give Merle a look.

"I know you're done, but can you just stay 'til Shane gets here?"

As expected, his brother rolled his eyes at that, but then his mouth twisted and he let out an exaggerated sigh.

"One fucking minute," he grunted while holding his middle finger up in the air, "that's _all_ I'm waiting. If Deputy Douchebag ain't here by then, I'm leavin' dickless to rot."

Before Daryl could say anything back to that, Merle started to chuckle to himself.

"Dickless. Damn man," he gave a hard smack to the sniveling Ed's shoulder, "you're the first asshole I called dickless who actually lost a dick! Ha!" He looked back over at Daryl with a grin, "that's pretty good! You know what," he nodded, "for that I'll give you an extra minute."

"Yeah," Daryl rolled his eyes, "thanks."

So with that, and a scrunch to his nose, he leaned over with his new rag in hand to scoop up the pieces of Ed's package off the ground. After that, he folded the edges of the cloth up around that bloody mess, and tucked the whole thing down by his side. His hope there bein', maybe at least then if any of the kiddies were out they wouldn't notice it, and wonder what it was.

Because seriously . . . he started off for the field with a sigh . . . he wasn't explain' this one for nothing.

/*/*/*/*/

When he was done buryin' Ed's junk in the hole, and then filling the hole back up again, Daryl cut into the trees and walked for a bit in the quiet. He didn't venture far, in part because he didn't have his bow, only his knives. So basically he just trekked along the length of the camp, about ten yards in from the tree line, as he tried to make some peace with all he'd just done. By the time he'd walked the full length of their little area though, he'd started picking up flies from the blood on his hands. At that point he was comin' out at the far end of the camp.

Down near the quarry.

So that's where he detoured out. And when he got down there, he stripped off his bloody shirt and boots, slipped off his belt with his last three knives, and pulled off his socks. Then with his pants still on, he waded in to the drop off, and started swimmin' out to the really deep part of the pool.

The part where Sophia had fallen in the day before.

And with the day bein' so much hotter, the cold water felt a lot nicer than the last time he'd been in there. So once he reached the center of that still, deep water, he stopped swimmin'. Then he took a deep breath . . . and just let himself sink.

Down, down, down, with his eyes closed, as he dropped like a weight.

He let himself go until he'd counted to a slow forty . . . Sophia's sticker . . . that's when he gave a hard kick, and started swimming back up, until finally, he broke through the surface with a gasp. For a moment he just tipped his head back and treaded water, staring up at the blue sky. It wasn't even eight o'clock yet, and the sun was already beatin' down.

It was gonna be a scorcher.

And even though this woulda been a good day (unlike yesterday) to just hang out in the water, he knew he couldn't that. Just cuz he'd finished with Ed, didn't mean there wasn't still stuff to do. So with that, he took a breath, and turned to start the swim back to shore.

That's when he noticed that somebody was already over there waitin' on him.

Lori.

She was washing the blood off his boots.

"She wanted to come find you herself," she called over, with a half glance, most of her attention still focused on the task she was performing, "but she's in no state to be chasing you around. So," she tipped her head back then to catch his eyes as he moved across the water, "if you've got your head clear now, you need to go see her, because she's worried sick about you."

Daryl bit his lip at that as finished his swim over to the shallows. That's where he stopped, and while he was still treading water, he gave Lori a look.

"What'd they do with Ed?"

"Shane's still taking care of it," she answered with a jerk of her head up towards the hill, "the plan was to put a loose gag on him, tie him up good, and then they'd bind him to that big oak tree in the thicket on the far end of the field, just before the woods."

"Hmm," he hummed, while watching Lori move on to rinsing out his shirt, "that should be a good spot. Easy view from the roof, but far from where the kids play."

"Yeah," Lori let out a sigh as she scrubbed at a spot of clotted blood, "that was Shane's thought too. You know," she tipped her head back to look at him, "one day my husband, Rick, he came home in the middle of the afternoon, with his boots and his uniform all smeared in blood and fluids just like your clothes. He told me there'd been a car accident," her eyes dropped back down as she splashed some water on the thin cotton, "a pregnant woman had gone into labor and tried to drive herself to the hospital. It was off on a back road, so Rick and Shane got there before the ambulance, so Rick had to deliver the baby there on the side of the road." Her voice started to thicken, "funny how his day and yours left the same kind of mess."

They were both quiet for a second before Daryl cleared his throat.

"Were the lady and her baby okay?"

And Lori nodded.

"Yeah," she looked up again, that time with a watery smile, "she got a little cut up in the accident, but they were both fine in the end. It was a boy. And for the last three years we've been getting a Christmas card from them with a new picture." Then her smile suddenly fell away as her voice faded off, "I wonder if they're still alive now."

"Well," Daryl scowled as he started to walk up out of the water, "you and your boy are still alive, so no reason to be writin' off her and hers as walker chow."

"True," Lori huffed, "very true."

Then she brought her hand up to gesture just over her shoulder.

"I brought you a towel."

His brow knitted together at that, even as he started walkin' over to pick it up.

"How'd you know I'd be here?"

The confusion was clear in his voice. But then Lori tipped her head back to give him a soft look.

"Because," she whispered with a weary sigh, "it's where you were yesterday."

Daryl had nothin' to say to that, so he just busied himself with drying off. At least his top half. His pants were obviously soaked, and if Lori wasn't right there he woulda taken 'em off, but he figured with the way his boxers were probably stickin' to him . . . and completely see through . . . she would not appreciate that.

But then it was like she knew what he was thinkin, 'cuz with her hands still down in the shallows scrubbin' at a spot on his shirt, she called over her shoulder, "just take your pants off, and wrap up in the towel."

His eyes crinkled a bit then, because once again that woman was just tellin' and not askin'. But he generally knew when to best pick his battles (especially when all he wanted to do was take off those wet pants anyway), so he just grunted out a, "yes, ma'am," as he reached for his zipper.

Thirty seconds later, he was down to just his skivvies and wrappin' that damp towel around his waist. That's when Lori reached over to pick up his pants. She folded them up, and laid them down neatly on top of his wet, already folded, shirt.

"They still need to be washed properly with soap," she said softly while smoothing out the pile, "but at least the blood's rinsed. I'll just add them to today's pile."

"Hmm," he hummed, "thanks. And uh," he gestured towards his clean boots, "and for the boots too. You didn't have to do that."

She tipped her head back to give him a sad smile.

"It was the least I could do."

Then she let out a slow breath as she came back up to her feet. They were only standin' maybe a foot apart, and him bein' mostly naked didn't seem to be phasin' her in any way, because she was just starin' up at him. That sad look was still on her face.

Then she tipped her head to the side.

"I know you don't want me in your business, Daryl . . ."

"This is true," he cut in with a warning look.

" _Buuut,_ " she continued on like he hadn't interrupted, "I just need to know." She let out a heavy sigh, "you are going to take full responsibility for them now, right? Because if you're not going to step in there all the way, then I need to talk to Shane and make sure he's on board with making them a permanent part of our unit."

Daryl's brow darkened at that.

"You don't need to be talkin' to old Shane about anything," he grunted while leaning over to pick up his boots, "I got this."

"You're sure?" Lori asked with a faint purse to her lips. And Daryl damn near lost it then.

"God DAMN it woman," he snapped back on a growl, "I just cut off a man's COCK and _BALLS_ for those two! So why the FUCK are you pushing me now?!"

It was hard enough doing all that crap he'd done for them, and to now STILL have to fuckin' justify himself as being _honorable_ or some shit! Like seriously, what the FUCK?!

And for a second he just stood there, with his chest heaving and his eyes blazing. And he was expecting that Lori woulda been hightailin' it outta there by then, because all that anger was clearly directed at her. But just like Carol, she didn't seem to be afraid of him. No . . . his brow started to scrunch together . . . instead she was just looking at him.

She seemed terribly sad.

"I'm so sorry that you had to do that," she whispered then, "it must have been awful."

Damn if that was the last thing he was expectin' her to say . . . sorry. And so for a second he just stared down at her, while she looked up at him. Their eyes were locked together. And then his heart rate began to slowly even out.

Finally his jaw twitched.

"Don't matter that it was awful," he murmured as his attention fell to the water a few feet away, "those two deserved to have some justice for all the things he did," he swallowed, "and that's all the justice I could get 'em. But it wasn't enough," his voice faded off, "nothin' was gonna be enough."

In that moment he was back in his mind, hearin' how Carol's voice had broke telling him that awful story about what she'd found when she'd got back to their tent. He knew there was nothing that was ever gonna make that memory better for her or Sophia. All he'd done was break out a mop and a bucket to clean up the mess Ed had made.

He was nothin' but a fucking janitor.

And for almost a minute he just stared down at that lapping water as he took these slow, deep breaths. But then suddenly he felt Lori's hand touch his cheek.

And his head snapped back, as his eyes went wide.

Because he might've been gettin' accustomed to Carol touching him so freely, but that was about it. If Lori was gettin' though, how she was treading here in an area that wasn't safe for her to be treadin' in, she didn't seem to be taking the hint.

Or maybe she just didn't care.

And after they just stared at each other for damn near another full minute, finally he blinked . . . and when he did, he winced. And when he took a deep breath, that's when her hand finally fell away from his cheek.

'Bout damn time.

But then she was steppin' in, and leaning up, and wrapping her arms around his neck.

His arms were both still down by his side, and in one hand he was holdin' his boots. Mostly he was just standing there though like a freaking board. Because he did not know what the FUCK to do then, because people just did NOT go around hugging him! He was NOT the _RANDOM_ hugging type!

That was something he felt was pretty God damn clear!

Still though, he was almost too stunned to say anything. But then after about ten seconds or so of her still not letting him go, he finally hissed, "what are you _doin_ ' woman?!"

All she did was just mutter back a, "hush."

His brow wrinkled then, because he was so confused. Partly because the way she was actin' was just BAFFLING the hell out of him! Mostly though, it was because he was startin' to feel kinda conflicted about the hug itself. Because he couldn't deny that as much as he didn't WANT this woman hanging off of him . . . he did kinda like it.

It felt nice to have a soft body wrapped around him.

And he didn't mean that in a sexual way, because he really was not attracted to a woman that looked like Olive Oil. It was just that besides Carol just in the last day, Lori was the only woman to hug him in probably the last six years. It'd been that long since he'd had a regular girl.

Sandy.

But since she'd gone off with her ex-baby daddy up north, the only physical contact he'd had with any woman (any _one_ ), had been a few backroom, (or bathroom), screws with a couple of cocktail waitresses, and one lady bartender. That screwin' had been all about gettin' down to business though. And when they were done, those ladies (and some of them you had to kinda use that word real loose) they'd just fixed their clothes and left. Usually with him still zipping himself up. So okay, maybe he had been missin' having a nice girl, and all the nice stuff that came with that.

It was just one more thing that he didn't let himself think about though.

And it was when he'd started to _let_ himself think about that, is when he finally felt his body relax as he let out a slow breath. And that's when Lori gave him one really tight squeeze, just before she patted his back.

And when she let her arms fall away, it was with a faint sigh.

"There, I knew you'd survive it."

When he shot her a dirty look for that, her eyes crinkled . . . but then she sobered again and said pointedly, "you really needed a hug. And I just figured," she continued on while crossing her arms at her chest, "that if today's the day for doling out what people have coming to them, that you should get one. Because we all had you pegged dead wrong, Daryl Dixon." Then she tipped her head to the side before adding with a wry smirk, "of course a lot of that was due to the fact that you are a real pain in the ass."

Feeling his lips start to twitch, because this woman was a trip, Daryl had to look off to the side.

"Yeah well," he cleared his throat, "I ain't the only one around here that can cause discomfort in a person's special area." He shot her a look, "you can be a real ball buster, lady."

A hint of pink touched Lori's cheeks then as she let out a faint huff.

"Yeah, I know," she agreed with a sharp nod, "and I won't say I'm sorry because sometimes you have to bust balls to get things done. But," she tipped her head, "I'll try not to bust _your_ balls quite so much, if you would please agree to try not to be such a pain in _my_ ass," her arms fell down then as she put her hand out, "deal?"

For a second Daryl just looked down at that woman's hand, because he still wasn't quite sure what to make of the person attached to it. He hadn't really met anyone quite like her before. But then finally he let out an amused huff.

"Fine," he muttered while reaching over to give her fingers a loose shake . . . it was all he could manage with the way his knuckles were swellin' up, "you wanna play nicey nice, I can do that." Then he gave her a look as their hands fell apart, "but just for you though. Don't be expectin' this to carry over to your boy Shane. Because he and I ain't seen eye to eye on nothing 'cept this thing with Ed."

It was one thing to allow that maybe he and Lori might actually make friends at some point, but that just wasn't gonna happen with her man. Not when he still had so much of that arrogant cop in him. Men like Shane, they always believed their own hype. Though Daryl would allow that the guy was a hell of a shot.

But that's about all he'd give him.

And he could see Lori was thinkin' on what he'd just said. Then she gave him a nod.

"Fair enough. And," she jiggled her head, "I admit it's not likely there's any world where you two would ever be friends, but as long as our little group holds together, maybe you could just try to not kill each other," and her lip quirked up then in a faint smile, "if that's not too much trouble."

"Pfft," he snorted, "we'll see."

For just a second Lori's lips twitched, but then she got that back under control.

"All right then," she added on then with a jerk of her chin towards his bare chest, "go up and put some dry clothes on, Carol's waiting on you."

"Yes ma'am," he snorted again, that time with a half smirk. And her mouth quivered.

"Sorry," she shrugged as she leaned down to scoop up his laundry, "but you see," she came back up to her feet, "ball busters get shit done."

Then she turned around and walked away.

For a second Daryl just watched her walk off, then he shook his head, and reached down to start picking up the rest of his shit.

 _It was time to see Carol._

/*/*/*/*/

After he'd changed into his last set of clean, dry clothes . . . two days in a row of jumpin' in the quarry had dramatically reduced his available wardrobe . . . Daryl headed down to Lori's tent.

Unlike the last time he'd been there when he'd had a knot sittin' in his stomach over the day ahead, now he just felt kinda empty. What he'd done to Ed was right, but it didn't feel good. For Merle it probably did, just 'cuz he'd always liked hurtin' people.

He'd got that from Daddy.

But Daryl, whenever he got into a fight, he'd never felt good about it. Not like he'd always felt BAD about it . . . sometimes an asshole just had a busted head coming to 'em . . . but he'd never taken any real pleasure in it even then. Like today with Ed, all he'd done to him, he'd done 'cuz that fucker had earned it . . . but Daryl had HATED that he had earned it. Because all those years of abuse that Carol and Sophia had suffered, is what'd brought them there. Brought him to the moment where he had to carve up a man in the worst way imaginable to another man. So how could he really feel 'good,' about bein' a party to any of that chain of misery?

Not possible.

Still though, when he got to the tent, he tried to even out his expression. Because he didn't know what Carol was gonna need him to be. And seeing as how a person couldn't really, 'knock' on a tent . . . at least not without looking like a fucking idiot . . . he just cleared his throat, loudly. Then he called out, in a softer tone, "it's Daryl."

Almost immediately there was a rustling from inside, and then a frantic yank of the zipper as it went flying up. Then Carol's head popped out.

His eyes widened when he saw her face.

Because even though he knew how bad that beating had been she'd taken, now in the bright summer sun, and all these hours later, the damage he could see on her was brutal. And when she went to climb out of the tent, he immediately put his hand out to help her. When he did that though, all she did was hold that hand out in front of her.

She was staring down at his tattered and swollen knuckles.

When she looked back up, he could see that her eyes were watering.

"Are you okay?" She whispered, almost fearfully as she reached up to touch the bruise on his forehead. And he nodded back with the faintest of crinkling of his eyes . . . just enough to try and make her feel better.

"Yeah baby," he murmured, "I'm fine. I'll admit he did get a jump on me first thing, but Merle was there quick, so," his lips pursed, "that didn't amount to nothing. So then we just," he took a breath, "went on and did what we'd planned to do."

One of those tears slipped down Carol's cheek then as she moved over the two steps to cuddle in against his chest.

He immediately slipped his arm around her waist, and the other around her shoulders. Then he tipped his head down to rest against hers. And as they held each other there for a few seconds, he couldn't deny that this was a much better hug than the one he'd had with Lori. That one just felt nice.

This one made him happy.

At least it did until Carol murmured against his chest, "his screaming woke me up. Sophia too."

And that's when Daryl's eyes widened.

"God," he let out a heavy breath as his fingertips pressed into her arm, "it didn't make things worse for her, did it?"

Shit, if he'd traumatized that child worse than she already had been, he was packing up his tent today and moving on. Because he'd know he had no business playin' fucking hero.

But then he felt Carol shake her head.

"No," came the slightly muffled response, "no, she was scared at first because she didn't know what going on, but then I explained. I said that was her daddy, and that he was being hurt for all the terrible things he'd been doing to us all these years. And I told her that I'd been praying for him to be punished, and that God had finally answered that prayer by bringing you into our lives to protect us. But that in the end, her daddy had brought it all on himself, because he was an evil man who deserved everything he got."

Hearing that, Daryl's eyes started to water. Because he hadn't realized Carol thought about it like that . . . so biblical. Like they'd met up because of something she'd been praying on. It was kind of dangerous to let himself think that way though. Even if he did still believe in God (most days), it didn't seem right to hand off what he and Merle had done to the Big Man. That'd be like not acceptin' their part in it. Yeah, he'd done what he'd done today with the best of reasons, but that still sure as hell didn't make what he did 'godly.'

He still needed to _own_ that shit.

But he didn't wanna contradict Carol, because if that's what she believed, and if that's what helped Sophia understand what'd been done, then it wasn't his place to comment. So instead he just let out a faint sigh as he brushed his fingertips along her collarbone.

"So she's doin' okay then?" He asked softly. And Carol tipped her head back to give him a nod.

"Yeah," her jaw twisted, "I think she is actually. I mean she's still," her brow darkened, "skittish, of course, but I think knowing that he really can't ever," her voice started to crackle, "hurt her again, has helped her a lot." She nodded, "it makes her feel safer. So," she reached up to brush her fingers along his cheek, "thank you for giving her that," her lips pursed as she finished sadly, "because it's more than I ever could."

"Carol," Daryl said with a wince, "you can't look at it like that. I don't like to talk about it, but," he bit his lip, "I'll tell you this much, I grew up with a daddy just like Sophia's, but I didn't have a momma all the years she's had one. My momma died when I was seven, and I can tell you," he gave her a hard look, "life was a lot better before she was gone. And I'm not just sayin' that I missed her later, I mean," he let out a heavy breath, "when she was alive, so many times she put herself between him and me. She was just a little slip of a thing herself and," he huffed, "she drank a lot, but she was still my momma and she protected me from that man the best she could. And it made a difference, not only on the day to day, but on my memories of her. So," he rubbed his hand down Carol's arm, "don't go thinkin' what you did these last few years isn't somethin' Sophia will appreciate later. I mean," a sad smile touched his lips then, "if we can get to later, that is. But one day at a time on that, right?"

Though he could understand Carol feeling guilt for not leaving Ed and staying away, from the experience of growin' up with his daddy, Daryl knew that the fantasy about just getting up and going off to a safe place, was always just that . . . the fantasy. The reality was that you stayed. You stayed and you took one beatin' after the next, whether you deserved them or not.

That was the life.

And it was a _hard_ fuckin' thing to break out of. Really, if not for his daddy dropping dead of a heart attack in the middle of his regular Sunday meatloaf, Daryl probably would've kept taking those hits until the day he was big enough to fight back, and then he woulda ended killing that son of a bitch. So yeah, the best thing his daddy ever did was dying when Daryl was fourteen.

It was the only gift he ever got from that man.

And he could feel Carol now tryin' to take a breath, and then she sniffled, "yeah, right, one day at a time. And um," she swallowed, "thank you for telling me that about your mama," her eyes crinkled as she tipped her head back, "it helps."

His lip quirked up then.

"Good."

From there, a moment passed where they just looked at each other. And though Daryl did have a bit of an itch to give that woman a kiss, he knew it was much too soon for that. Even if it hadn't been though, half of Carol's poor pretty face, (lips included) was bruised and swollen. So he certainly wasn't gonna be puttin' his lips anywhere that was gonna cause her more hurt. But that at least gave him a solid reason for goin' real slow with things, besides just the obvious, in that she was only recently "divorced."

Again, of the new world fashion.

But if nature took its course like he expected, Carol would be a widow within days, and then at least he wouldn't have to worry about anybody talkin' about them behind their backs. Of course, again, it was more his worry about people talkin' about _Carol_ than him . . . that "whore" judgment the ladies tended to get that the men didn't . . . but either way, that was just another reason for him to be keepin' his lips to himself for the next little while.

That wasn't to say that hugging wasn't on the menu though.

'Cuz when Carol put her head back down on his chest, and let out this sigh, that faint bit of happy came back to him. And that was just from bein' able to finally hold her like he wanted.

So yeah, for right now . . . he tipped his head down to rest against hers again . . . that would be enough.

* * *

 _A/N 2: So yeah, that was some NASTY stuff with the Breaking of Ed! If you weren't sure if we'd really go with castration, we did :) And it is a disturbing thing to do, and Daryl didn't feel good about doing it, but like he said, there's not much in the way of justice left in the world for Carol and Sophia. And he couldn't kill Ed outright, so that's all he could do for them. And if you're wondering if season 1 Daryl was ready for that, remember for canon, this is a Daryl who was within X days of being completely okay with shooting a Living Jim in the head, just for being infected. So if motivated, I feel confident he could've put his hunting skills to use just like did here._

 _Again, it is obviously clear that I like Lori. And I liked the idea that she and Daryl could be friends, of the no sugar coating, mutual ball buster sort, just because he'd proven himself to be a standup guy. I think that did sort of happen much, much later, but if there had been a chance for him to prove himself before she got all sucked into her triangle and he got sucked into his bitterness and anger about Merle, that their relationship could have started down a different path much earlier. It would definitely have benefited Lori's character if she'd had somebody like Daryl calling her out on her shit during the whole f'ing debacle that came later. That might all go differently too because of it._

 _I am obviously going with the angle that Daryl is not a total eunuch when it comes to women :) I just never felt (personally) that you could really gauge someone's true dynamic in that respect, based on the situation we found them in. The world ends, your priorities will shift. If you're already an introvert (and he's kind of a classic extroverted introvert, loud yet broody) then you're just going to close yourself off more initially when everyone around you is dying. And for canon, if he's capable of giving himself a degree of physical release, then simply not wanting to be bothered with trying to navigate 'emotional' entanglements with women, when he has all of this other shit to deal with, makes sense to me. And that answer applies even more really if you are a Caryl shipper. Because I think he really wasn't interested in other women because in his mind he already had a woman. His devotion for Carol is real (even if you have on blinders and want to see it as platonic, you can't deny that he obviously loves her in a 'special' way), but they kept getting wrenched apart. So to change their dynamic and let himself really FEEL all of what he feels for her, would be difficult. There's a lot more to lose. Same for her._

 _So yeah, that's my take on them for canon. For HERE, I'm just giving him maybe two or three girlfriends over the last twenty-five years, and then just a few "ladies" he knew from the bars, to fill the in between. And Carol, I already folded in that she'd had a couple of relationships before Ed, with men that she would have been better off with than him._

 _And because Daryl was so good with a baby Judith, (and I've said elsewhere that would indicate he had 'some' previous baby experience), you'll note that here I gave him an ex with a baby daddy, indicating said ex had a child of some unknown age. That will be a more detailed conversation with Carol at some point._

 _And lastly, writing Merle here was fun, because I didn't have to walk the line of his douchebaggery. He was just taunting a wife beating child rapist in ways that really, anybody would love to if you could JUST get away with it._

 _So next time around Rick's appearance will be on the horizon. And obviously we have very much deviated away from canon now what with Ed still having a penis when we met him. So I'll kind of be 'cherry picking' which events still happen, and the order that they happen in, but we're definitely going to the CDC! Because hell if I don't already have a nice big chapter written for them AT the CDC, so we're definitely going there because crucial events happen that cannot be skipped :)_

 _Anyway, thank you all for the continued follows and I always love to hear from you! I'd be curious if anyone had different plans for Ed ;)_


	8. One Step At A Time

**Author's Note:** Hey all! Anyone I didn't talk to already, thanks for the feedback last time, as always it's appreciated :)

Here, picking up a few minutes later.

* * *

 **One Step At A Time**

Daryl didn't stay outside with Carol for very long. In part because Carol really wasn't up for standing for any length of time yet . . . not with the bruises and swelling she had on her legs . . . but also because Sophia was inside the tent alone. And of course neither of them wanted to leave her for more than a few minutes.

She might get scared.

So when Carol let out the half sigh/half groan against his chest of, "my pill's wearing off and I really need to sit down again," Daryl immediately shifted his hold around her waist, so he could help her back inside.

Though when he stepped through the flap beside her, that's when he realized the color of that canvas (which he hadn't thought much about before) was kinda unfortunate. 'Cuz the way the sun was beatin' down on the outside, the whole _inside_ of that place was sorta glowin' a bright creepy red, like they were on Mars or some shit.

That was a point that kinda left him though, when he looked down to the floor to see that Sophia was lying on very end of the two big sleeping bags that were opened up, and zipped together side by side. And even though the day was already borderin' on sweltering, that child had a wool blanket covering over her whole body, and most the way over her head.

She was just peeking out.

"Honey," Carol said softly while leading him . . . really letting him help her . . . over to the far corner of the red planet, where her daughter was laying down, "our friend Daryl came to see us just like I said he would. Do you want to say hi?"

A moment passed then where that little girl just stared up at them from the under the blanket, while those big blue eyes, which were so much like her momma's, filled up with tears. And Daryl wanted so bad to go over there and cuddle her up, to try and make her feel safe like he'd been able to yesterday. But he knew him doing that right then, would do the exact opposite.

It'd scare the hell out of her.

And he didn't want to cause her anymore fright . . . or God forbid actually mess her up long term . . . so instead of even going one more step closer, he just stayed right where he was, and very slowly, lowered himself down to the floor of the tent.

He still had Carol's hand in his.

"I'm just gonna stay over here, angel," he whispered to Sophia while pulling his legs up in front of him, Indian style, "and we don't have to talk if you don't want to."

For a second Carol stood there next to him, slightly hunched over, and squeezing his fingers so tight that it started to hurt his banged up knuckles. Not that he'd ever say that of course. That was pussy talk right there. Especially when he looked up to see how she looked to be debatin' with herself if she should stay there with him, or go over to be with her daughter.

Finally though, she seemed to decide it would be better to stay where she was. And as she moved, with a pained hiss, to try and sit straight down, Daryl immediately dropped her hand to reach up and slide his arm around her hips instead.

"I gotcha, Peach," he murmured while tightening his hold.

So with his help, she got herself down to the floor where she let out a moaned, "thank you." Then she let out a slow, heavy breath, and leaned over to cuddle into his side.

He moved his arm up then, and slipped it around her shoulders. And he did that even though it was hot in that tent, (the back of his neck was already startin' to sweat) and Daryl knew it was just gonna get hotter still. But now that he was there, there really was no thought at all in his mind about leavin' those two alone. Yeah, it'd be nicer if he could take Carol and Sophia back to his _own_ hotter than hell tent . . . he REALLY didn't like the idea of hanging out there in Shane's "house" for any length of time . . . but he knew that Merle wouldn't abide him bringing these two over to their place. At least not if he was hanging out in there.

Which he probably would be.

Besides that though, his brother was much too loud and aggressive to be around Sophia right now. Even if he didn't mean her no harm, and Daryl knew that he didn't, it wouldn't be good for her. Which meant for the time being, at least until Sophia was feeling safe enough to come out from under that blanket, the only place really to be, was right where they were. And he had a feelin' that's why Carol had opted to sit with him rather than her daughter . . . who he already knew from her own words, was her whole world . . . she wanted that child to have a _reason_ to come out from under the blanket.

And her thought seemed to be a good one.

Because after he and Carol had been sittin' there real quiet for a few minutes, her with her head on his chest, and him with his fingertips brushing over her collarbone, Sophia finally did push that blanket back off her head. Daryl could see how her face and hair were kinda sweaty from being under that heavy wool.

Then she sat up.

A good thirty or forty more seconds passed from there where she just looked at them, and Daryl did his level best not to stare straight back at her. Instead he pretended to be looking out the screen in window flap just behind her. But then something seemed to clear in that little brain of hers. And that's when she took a deep breath, right before askin' on the softest whisper imaginable, "can I come sit with you, Mama?"

Feeling her eyes spark with a new warmth for her girl who was trying to break out of that fear which had been locking her in since she was attacked last night, Carol gave Sophia a quick nod.

"Of course sweetie," she murmured back while slowly raising her arm up, to put her hand out, "and it's okay if Daryl stays here with us too, right?"

Sometimes it was important to double check on things . . . this seemed to be one of those times. Fortunately though, Sophia just swallowed once, before jerking her head in a little nod.

"Yeah," she bit her lip, "it's okay."

So with that, she finally stood up, and though her five steps across the tent were a little hesitant, and she gave Daryl a focused, searching look, before she sat down, she did sit down.

Right there in Carol's lap.

And Carol's lap was pretty well lined up with his lap, so Sophia's gangly little bare legs (for reasons that made Daryl sad to think about, she was still wearing that same shorts and tank outfit she'd had on yesterday during the storm) were crossed over in front of him.

For his part, Daryl was kind of afraid to even breathe too hard then. Because he knew it was a huge deal, this little girl coming over to sit right next to him. It meant she was tryin' REAL hard to remind herself that not all men were like her daddy. And most likely she was takin' her cues from her mama . . . who Daryl would bet a day's water rations, had never once in Sophia's lifetime cuddled up with that pig of a husband . . . that he was a safe person.

One that would not hurt them.

And so once Sophia was settled on her mama, they all sat there, once more quiet and still, with Daryl's left arm still wrapped around Carol's shoulders. His right hand (the one that had done so much of today's work on Ed) was half curled up on his knee, aching like an absolute motherfucker. Then he noticed how Sophia was staring down at his ragged knuckles. And the way her own fingers were twitching, it looked kinda like she wanted to touch his hand.

She didn't though.

But after another few seconds passed where she didn't look away from it either, he slowly raised his arm up so that hand was right in front of her face, about two inches back.

"You wanna know how I busted my fingers?" He asked softly, and her wide eyes snapped up to his.

Again, she didn't say anything. That time she did nod though, so he let out a heavy sigh.

"I got 'em tore up when I was hittin' your daddy. But," and his jaw twisted for a second, "you should know I only hit him 'cuz he hurt you and your momma. I don't abide nobody hurtin' ladies or little kids," he shook his head as his voice faded, "'cuz that's not right at all."

When Sophia's eyes started to water then, Daryl bit his lip. And he knew they were kind of out on a limb there, for how things could go. If he didn't say the right things right now, then that girl might keep foldin' in on herself, and relivin' that moment with Ed over and over in her head, 'til she was real messed up. And he'd already decided that he wanted to be with Carol, and she clearly wanted to be with him, which meant that Sophia was gonna be his to look after too. And he was just fine with that. Really. Because he liked kids, and she was a sweet one.

At least she had been as of yesterday.

Which was why he'd be God damned if he was gonna let what happened last night with Ed, make her into somethin' else. But he knew that she _was_ gonna become somethin' else, if he didn't find a way to get the ghost of her bastard daddy climbing on top of her, out of that little head. Hell, they had enough real monsters to be frightened of in this new world.

Ghosts didn't need to be on the list.

And so to try and wipe that one out of their lives, he took a deep breath, and brought his hand back down to his knee. Then he bit his lip.

"You remember yesterday, angel," he began softly, making sure to catch her watery eyes when he started speaking again, "when we were playin' Mad Libs?"

"Uh, huh," she sniffled, with her face down, and her chin half into her chest, "that's when we made our lady elephant story."

Those were literally the first words she'd said to him since he'd walked into the tent, and he found his eyes crinkling as he looked over at her.

"That's right," he answered with a slow nod, "we made our lady elephant story. And you weren't scared of me then, right? Not when we were there sittin' by the fire, or afterwards when I carried you up to the RV, and we all three huddled together in the bathroom."

For a second she stared back at him, and then she gave a quick jerk of her head.

"No," she whispered as one of those tears slipped down her cheek, "no, I wasn't scared of you. I was scared of the storm."

"Right," he murmured back with a faint exhale, "you were just scared of the storm, not me. And I promise you Sophia," he shook his head, "I will never give you any reason to be scared of me. I know I'm loud sometimes, and," his nose wrinkled, "I can maybe seem a bit grumpy the way I talk, but your mama will tell you I'm not mean. And," he gave her a look, "on my life little girl, I would never raise a hand to either you or your mama. And," his voice started to thicken then, "I would never do anything horrible like your daddy did to you last night. That was an awful thing that no person should ever do to anyone, let alone his own child."

Daryl's voice cracked on the last word. And feeling his emotions startin' to get the better of him, he had to stop talking for a second. But he could see that both Sophia and Carol had tears sliding down their faces now, and he wasn't sure if he was doing good here, or just making a holy mess of things. But he had to figure, seein' how Carol hadn't told him to stop talking yet, that maybe he wasn't doin' too bad. So he took a deep breath, and swallowed over that lump that had just formed in his throat. Then he tipped his head down to catch Sophia's watery eyes again.

"Now," he whispered to her, "I know your mama already told you that your daddy can't ever hurt either one of you again, but I'm gonna say it too," he shook his head, "he's not gonna be a part of your life no more. And your mama and me, we're uh," he shot a quick look over to Carol . . . who gave him a sharp nod to keep going "well," his eyes snapped back to Sophia's, "she might've mentioned how we've become good friends."

Seeing Sophia sniffle as she gave him a faint nod, Daryl felt a little more confident about what he was saying, even though he wasn't much for talkin' about things in general. But these were things that _needed_ to be talked about, whether that was his thing or not. Because he couldn't, knowin' what had happened last night, just step in here and pretend like Sophia would welcome him into her world. That'd be the worst thing he could do. Really, he was just thankin' God Carol had laid the roots down on this one too.

So he kept rolling along.

"Okay then," he let out a small breath, "so since your mama and I are good friends now, what I told her last night, and what I'm telling you today, is that from here on, I'm gonna be lookin' after you two. So if you're scared about the walkers, or the bad people like were on the news, or just," his lips pressed together, "anything, I promise you little girl, you and your mama don't have to deal with that stuff by yourselves anymore. All of us are gonna be a little, um," his eyebrows scrunched together, "unit, I guess, is a good word." He let out a huff as he shot Carol a look, "it's a Lori word."

Seeing her teary eyes crinkle a bit, his lip quirked up. Then he looked back to Sophia.

"So basically what that means," he continued on with a firm nod, "is that we're all gonna be each other's people. 'Cuz it's real hard to get by, by yourself these days, you gotta have folks to help you out. Does that make sense?"

For that he got back another sniffle and nod from the little one, so that was good. It meant that at least she was old enough to understand what he was sayin' here about making alliances. Before everything fell apart, Daryl knew he was the last person who woulda said you needed other folks to get by in the world. Because he'd been gettin' by for most of his life pretty much on his own, with Merle popping in and out between the Army and prison stretches. But then the world went away.

And things got HARD.

Hard like Daryl had never even imagined hard could be. And it wasn't like he'd been living any kinda rich bitch, sittin' on his ass life, 'til then. He'd been working his butt off to keep a roof over his head, and food on his table, since he was fourteen and daddy had left him nothing but that ramshackle house which still had a mortgage forty years in. So he knew what it was to struggle. But he'd kill to go back to the way things were when he was literally digging ditches twelve hours a day, to make a buck. Because the later on, the days after the grid went down, and just fuckin' EVERYONE died . . . they'd been brutal. Merle'd say different of course, he'd say it wasn't that bad.

But he'd be a lying son of a bitch.

Because every day there'd been more and more walkers to fight off. It'd seemed like everybody who wasn't dead yet, was turning. And he'd kept waitin' to see if he and Merle would get sick and turn too. So that was one fucking nightmare.

Waiting to see if they were just gonna up and die.

Then when they didn't, that just gave them more to do. There was having to keep a safe shelter, and gathering up enough water and food to cover three meals a day, when most days they were lucky if they found enough for two.

Other days all they did was split a squirrel.

It was exhausting for the head and the body, every bit of it. And just too much to do all on their own. Not that Daryl was a big fan of everyone left in the current group, but being IN their current group, was a hell of a lot better than being out of it.

It was nice to see a ten year old agreed with him on that point.

So after he'd given them all a minute to _digest_ that point, he thought of one last thing to get clear on. It was kind of a big thing, and another one he was hoping Carol had already covered in some fashion.

He just needed to lock it down.

"All right then," he bit his lip, "so all this talkin' we're doing here, what it comes down to angel, is that I'm gonna be around you and your mama pretty much on the regular now. So," he tipped his head, "is that gonna be okay with you, us three bein' together, that is?"

It was important to have this conversation now on day one, 'cuz if Sophiawas gonna be at all twitchy with him, then they needed to know, so he'd know how much space to give her until she'd adjusted to things. Because the last thing he wanted to do was push himself into her day to day, if she wasn't ready for another grown man to be there.

They'd do this on her terms.

The thing was though, after Sophia stared up at him for a second . . . suddenly her face crumpled and she started to cry again. And for a moment, Daryl was terrified that he'd gone totally the wrong way with what he'd said. So his eyes darted over to Carol's, but rather than seemin' upset with him, she just mouthed, ' _give her a minute._ ' So he nodded.

And he gave it the minute.

The minute passed. But then finally Sophia, even though she was still cryin', reached out to take his raggedy right hand. And she squeezed it SO tight with her little fingers, it hurt almost as much as when her momma did it. Then her breath started coming so hard and so fast that it looked like she was having a baby panic attack. Even when Carol started rubbing her back again, with the gentle murmurin' of, "it's okay sweetie, it's okay," that didn't seem to be doing anything to calm that child.

If anything she almost seemed worse.

But then Sophia sucked in a deep, gaspin' breath and with her free hand, the one that wasn't squeezing the life out of his sore fingers, started clawing at his forearm. And suddenly realizing what she wanted . . . yet still praying like hell that he wasn't _somehow_ readin' her wrong(!) . . . he tipped his head down.

"Do you wanna come sit with me, Sophia?" He whispered with a scrunch of his eyebrow, "is that it?"

"Uh huh," she gasped out, that time with a jerk of her head. And after another bit of quick worried eye contact with her mama . . . who gave him a sad, teary nod in return . . . he lifted his arm up. And that little girl immediately let go of his hand and wrist, to reach up and wrap her arms around his neck instead.

So he let her climb into his lap, and when she laid her head down on his shoulder, he pressed his hand down in the middle of her back. And that's when that child cuddled in, and started to SOB! The sound of it was killin' him. But given how she'd opted to cling on to him and not her mama for this mini-breakdown, after a moment he started to realize why that was. He'd told her he was gonna be the new person in her and her mama's life. And he'd told her that he would protect them, and that he would take care of them, and that he would never hurt them . . . and so she was latchin' on to him.

And she was lettin' go of Ed.

All that fear she'd had of her daddy, and all those years she'd been pressed under his thumb, she was cryin' because the change meant that was all over now. Daryl had done the same thing when _his_ daddy died. That night after everyone was gone, and the body was out of the house, he'd curled up in his closet, and sobbed so bad his eyes were swollen shut the next morning. And that wasn't grief . . . it was relief. The fucker was dead, and he'd finally been free.

It'd only taken fourteen years.

Sophia only had to put in ten before she got her pardon, but Ed trying to rape her, that definitely put some extra time on her sentence. But she'd just been reminded that her and her mama, they could start over.

Today would be different.

And with Carol, who was also crying, havin' shifted over to fold herself around her girl, Daryl had both of 'em wrapped up in his arms and half in his lap. All he could think of then, was Lori down at the water askin' him if he was taking responsibility here. Well, if this wasn't responsibility . . . he let out a heavy sigh as he nuzzled Carol's temple . . . fuck if he knew what was.

Finally though, both those girls seemed to cry themselves out. And as the little one sniffled in his ear, he gave her back a very gentle pat, because he didn't know what marks were under that shirt.

He was almost afraid to ask Carol.

"You feelin' a bit better now, angel?" He whispered in that little ear. And then she sniffled out another, "uh huh," and then, "Mama said sometimes crying's good for you."

"That's right sweetie," Carol cut in, in agreement, while sitting up with her own sniffle, "sometimes it is good for you. And that was a good cry that we just had, but," she took a slow breath as she reached over to touch Sophia's cheek . . . her daughter immediately turned to look at her, "we don't want to cry all the time, right?" She continued with a faint smile. "Because then we'd just be sad all the time. And now that your daddy can't hurt us anymore," her voice cracked, "we don't need to be sad all the time."

Sophia bit her lip then just before she took a deep breath. But by Carol's assessment, even though the tears were done, she did not seem to be inclined to loosen her grip on Daryl's neck. It was like that moment when they'd broken through the water down at the quarry. She'd had the same death grip on him then, because he was her life preserver.

And she'd trusted that he wouldn't let her drown.

It filled Carol's heart to see her clinging on to him again today. Because it meant that even with all that her daddy had done to her, her daughter hadn't been so damaged that she couldn't still bond. Though Carol did realize that if Daryl hadn't had saved Sophia yesterday, the foundation of trust wouldn't have already been with them here today. It actually probably would've taken them weeks, or God forbid some other near death experience . . . of which there were probably too many to bear, right around the corner . . . to get them where they were now. So maybe that fall into the quarry had been part of God's plan too. Or maybe it was just what you'd call a silver lining.

Either way.

As long as you could pull some good out of the bad things, it didn't matter what they were called.

And as much as she hated to separate these two here in front of her, Carol had a feeling that Daryl was probably not all that comfortable with hanging around in Shane and Lori's tent. Truth be told, it wasn't like she was enjoying it all that much either. Not that she wasn't incredibly grateful for them taking her and Sophia in last night, because of course she was. But the sun was up now. And Ed was no longer a threat, so even though Carol knew that she wasn't well enough to go out and help with the chores . . . she _truly_ did feel like she'd been tied to a bumper and dragged down the street . . . she still needed to find a better place to rest.

Staying here much longer would just be awkward.

But after Shane had gotten the news from Glenn that the Dixon brothers had finished with her husband, Carol (after bursting into tears of relief) had started to ask Lori if she could help them go back to their own tent. But Sophia had reacted very badly to the thought of returning there . . . she went into a full blown panic attack just like this one here with Daryl . . . so of course Carol had immediately dropped the whole idea of leaving right away. Instead she'd just asked Lori if it would be okay if they stayed there a few more hours.

At least until she could talk to Daryl and figure out what to do next.

Of course Lori had immediately said yes, they could stay there however long they needed to. Even overnight again if that's what they wanted. Then she'd gathered up Carl . . . Shane had already been long gone on his cleanup duty with Ed . . . and said that they'd give them some privacy now that it was safe to go out. Well, safe enough anyway. And that's all you got these days.

Safe enough.

Their tent though, Carol knew that was never going to be safe enough for her daughter. Because really, no matter if they burned all of Ed's stuff (which Carol hoped to do within the day), or aired the place out to eliminate his God awful scent, Sophia was still always going to associate that tent with where she was nearly raped by her father.

It would be heartless to make her live there again.

So Carol had been thinking about the problem . . . because now she was allowed to do that again, think . . . and she was going to ask the group if somebody else might be willing to trade tents with them for the duration. It didn't seem like too much of an imposition really, after the airing out that is, so she was hoping somebody would be amenable to the trade.

That was the thought still on her mind when she tipped her head back over to lean against Daryl's shoulder again. She had one arm slung around his back, and the other down on his leg, with her fingers brushing Sophia's arm. And she felt unexpected burst of happiness then, that she could actually cuddle up with both her daughter, and this man who was starting to truly mean something to her. It was strange, but even if Ed wasn't quite dead yet, and even if the walkers outnumbered them now probably by the millions, she still felt oddly optimistic about the future.

That was all Daryl.

Because like she'd realized last night when he was getting ready for bed . . . he was capable. And he was strong. And he'd already given her a weapon of her own, and had plans to teach her how to use it properly to defend herself. God, a man like that . . . she brushed her fingers through his hair . . . he could actually keep them alive! Of course they couldn't stay on this isolated hilltop forever, and only God knew where they'd go next, but at least now it felt like they had a chance at a future.

They'd had no chance at all with Ed.

Thinking about that, and her _ex-_ husband off dying in the field, was the exact moment when Carol heard her daughter's stomach growl. Then she let out a sniffled huff, of "sorry," against Daryl's throat. And Carol couldn't help but let out an amused snort at that.

When she lifted her head to look over at Daryl, she saw his lip quirk up.

"Seems like it might be time to go get breakfast, huh?"

The question was asked as he gave Sophia's back a gentle, reassuring, rub. And seeing that, seeing how sweet he already was with her daughter, and how he seemed to just understand what she needed, it made Carol's chest ache for that man in a whole new way. Because Lori had been right.

She'd finally gotten a good one.

And so she found her eyes crinkling, as she gave him a nod.

"I am getting a little hungry myself. And I should probably eat something before I take the next pill anyway."

"Oh right," his eyes widened a bit, "your pill. We didn't do that yet. Um," his gaze shifted to bounce around the small space, "you got your knife handy?"

Sophia lifted her head up at that question.

"You have a knife, Mama?" She asked with a watery blink of surprise. And Carol's lip quirked up.

"Yep," she answered proudly, "Daryl gave it to me last night, so now I can help to protect us." She put her hand down on Daryl's knee then to brace herself, "it's over there under the edge of the sleeping bag."

Of course when she moved to try and get up, Daryl immediately started to tsk at her.

"Hey now," he murmured while loosely gripping her wrist, "you don't need to be crawling around on the floor in your condition." Then his eyes darted over to Sophia's . . . she was still staring at Carol.

"Angel," he said, and her attention snapped back him so he continued on with a faint pat of her back.

"Can you go get that knife for me, please? I need to cut up your mama's medicine for her so she'll feel better."

His thought on giving that child a task to do (especially one that involved doing something to help her mama) was that it would get her focused on the bigger day. Because that's what she needed now, distractions from thoughts of what had happened with Ed, both last night and this morning.

And as he'd hoped, Sophia immediately nodded an "uh huh," as she squirmed backwards off his lap, and crawled over to the sleeping bag she'd crawled out of about fifteen minutes earlier.

Two seconds after she got there, she turned back around with the sheathed knife in her hand.

"It's big," she murmured, while staring down at in wonder.

Daryl's eyes crinkled.

"It is big," he answered with a nod, "because your mama's a big girl and she can handle it. But you're gonna be around it too, so I'll show both of you how to use the knife in a safe way so you don't cut yourselves. Just the main thing is to remember," he reached forward to pluck the blade out of Sophia's small hand, "is that it's real sharp, so you need to keep it wrapped unless you're plannin' on using it. And if you do have to use it," he pulled the sheath off to demonstrate, "always hold tight to the handle," he made an exaggerated gripping motion for Sophia, "so it don't slip and cut your palm. Basically you just gotta be extra careful, okay, angel?"

After a second of staring at that shiny blade . . . she was clearly fascinated at the idea of them havin' it . . . she slowly dragged her eyes up to his, before she gave him a serious nod.

"Yep," she answered while pulling her legs up in front of her, and wrapping her arms around her knees, "I'll be careful."

His lip quirked up.

"Good girl." Then he looked over Carol.

"All right, you got your pills there, Peach?"

"Oh yep," she started scrambling to pull them from her pocket, "right here." Then she leaned over to drop them into a little pile on the floor in front of Daryl's knee.

"Hmph," he hummed as he started lining them up, "you know we're gonna need a baggie or some kind of case to put them into."

"I have a pill case in my purse," Carol murmured back, watching as he hacked through the first tablet . . . it was a clean chop, "it's just been empty for a couple of weeks now, but I can stick them in there."

"Okay," he let out a faint breath as he brought down the knife again, "then we'll get your bag and Sophia's sneakers, before we go down to the fire pit."

After whispering an affirmative, "sounds good," Carol turned to pick up her own sneakers from where she'd left them by the tent wall the night before. And as she started to slip them on, she asked Sophia to straighten out the sleeping bags, and line up the pillows evenly again. Because there was no excuse for not being good houseguests, even if the house in question was a ten foot by seven foot, canvas hut.

And timewise, all three of them ended up finishing their activities, at almost the same moment. So with her sneakers on and tied, Daryl handed Carol back her sheathed knife, which she tucked into her pants pocket, while he scooped the pills up from the tent floor. After he'd dropped them into her cupped hand, he slipped his arm around her waist, and helped her to stand up.

Then they both looked over to Sophia standing there in front of the tent door. And she was looking so small and vulnerable there with her feet bare, and her hands wringin' real nervous like down at her belly.

Her focus was locked onto that open tent flap.

"Are you ready to go outside, little one?" Daryl asked softly. And Sophia bit down hard on her cheek, before she turned to look over at him. Her eyes were a little too bright.

"Will I have to see my dad?"

It was clear she was terrified at the thought of it. So Daryl immediately shook his head to reassure her.

"No, angel," he answered gently, "I promise you won't have to see him again unless you wanted to. 'Cuz Lori told me that Shane brought him way down far to the end of the field, to that thicket of trees right before the woods. He's tied up there, but he can't walk no more anyway, so he can't get any closer than where he is. And you'd have to really squint to see him even from the field where you kids play, but with the cars parked where they are," he shook his head, "there's just no way to see him at all from the fire pit. The view's blocked."

For a second Sophia just stood there and blinked. Then she let out a slow breath.

"Good," she murmured as her back straightened a little, "because I don't want to see him. Not ever again."

It was clear that her fear of her father was being undercut now by her anger at what he'd done to her . . . and Carol was happy to see it. Because after all, it was her own rage at Ed, and his sickening attack on Sophia, that had finally given _her_ the strength to stand up to him _. Anger_ is what made you strong. And as long as they remembered that, she and her daughter would not be victims again.

So to that end, Carol gave a firm shake of her head.

"We're done with him now, honey. No matter what else happens, he's out of our lives." Then her eyes crinkled a bit as she added with a faint smile, "and this is the first day _ever_ that we can do whatever we want to, and we certainly don't want to spend it cooped up in here, right?"

Sophia gave a slow nod then, right before her fingers curled into loose fists.

"Can we go down to the water?" She asked softly, while still staring up at the adults.

"We can," Daryl cut in with a tip of his head as he slipped his arm around Carol's waist, "I'll take you guys down there a little later. But we gotta make sure your mama gets lot of rest today too." His eyes shifted over then to Carol, to see her looking up at him.

"Isn't that right, Mama?" He asked with a quirk of his brow.

Carol's expression softened as she gave Daryl a little smile.

"Right," she answered while reaching up to brush her fingers along his cheek, "and I _promise_ that I will rest." Then she let her hand fall, and turned to look back over at her daughter.

"There are still things we can do though," she continued with the same soft smile she'd been speaking to Daryl with, "like all of your activity books, and," she winked, "I'll even give you the day off your school lessons."

At that, Carol saw her daughter's lip quirk up a bit. After that she looked back to the open tent flap . . . took a deep breath . . . and stepped into the outdoors. That was NOT something that Carol was expecting.

For her girl to already be feeling strong enough to go outside on her own, that is.

So after sharing a quick, slightly surprised look with Daryl, who still had his arm securely around her waist . . . basically holding her up . . . the two of them hurried out after her. But Sophia hadn't gone far. Literally just maybe three steps from the door flap.

She was staring up at the sky.

"You doing okay, sweetie?" Carol asked, because that just seemed like a question she should keep asking at regular intervals today.

"Yep," Sophia answered quietly while still staring up at a cloud, "I'm fine."

Then she turned to look over at them with a faint crinkling of her eyes as she brought her arms up to cross at her chest. And Daryl couldn't help but note that was something Carol did. It made him wonder if that was something her girl had picked up, or if it was something she was born to do.

Curious sometimes the thoughts that went through your head.

Either way, when he let go of Carol for a moment to turn and fix the zipper on the tent, Sophia hurried over to slip herself underneath her mama's side. And Daryl realized then that child did have a lot of Carol in her, in that she always wanted to step up and help. So just like her mama, she just needed to be free to be the person she was. Now they could be those people.

That actually made him real happy to see,

So as she slid her small arm around her mama's waist, he gave her a solid nod and a faint crinkle of his eyes.

"Good job helping there, angel."

In response, Sophia bit her lip, just before she gave him back a shy smile back. It was clear that she was pleased to get the praise. And once he'd made sure Lori's tent was secure from any critters creepin' inside, he moved over to take the hand on Carol's other side, for their trip down to get breakfast.

It didn't take long after they'd started walkin' though, for him to see how fortunate it was that Sophia had stepped in to help support her mama. Because just getting going across the uneven path through their small camp, Carol was already havin' problems. Not that she was complaining of course, but Daryl could hear it in how she was breathin'. Those breaths were tight and uneven.

Just like they had been the night before.

And though his first thought was to just pick her up and carry her again, 'cuz she had _no_ business puttin' herself out like this, he knew that wasn't something she'd abide. Not with the sun up, and the whole camp now out and about.

She'd be embarrassed.

So he pushed down that instinct to do what _he_ thought was best, to instead be respectful of what he understood her wishes would be. Because if he was gonna be a man she'd want to stay with, then he needed to be a man who deserved her. And if he was acted like he was the "boss" here, then he wouldn't deserve her any more than Ed had. It was a hard pill to swallow, but there it was. So that's how the three of them ended up makin' a VERY slow walk across the grass and past the tents, until they finally reached the one where the ladies here, lived.

And when they got to that zippered door, Daryl could see in how Sophia shrunk away, literally tucking her head down and her face into her mama's breast, that she wanted absolutely _nothing_ to do with that tent now. And feeling a slight stab in his chest that she was so frightened of an empty place, he gave Carol a look. That's when whispered back how Sophia was, "terrified" to go in there again. And though he knew that was probably somethin' else they'd need to deal with, he also knew there was no reason to push her on it now. It was enough that they got her out of Lori's tent, and that she was showin' at least some willingness to try and enjoy the day. They couldn't fix everything at once.

No matter how much he might want to.

So again Daryl pushed away his own wants on how to deal with things, to just let out a sigh. Then he gave Carol's hand a squeeze.

"Are the purse and sneakers all you need in the short-term?" He asked on a murmur.

"Um," Carol swallowed and looked down at her rumpled clothes, "we actually do need to change at some point. And given the uh," she tipped her head toward Sophia, "the tent situation, I was also going to ask if somebody could maybe just switch with us."

Seein' another problem he could help them with in a real way, Daryl immediately gave a sharp nod.

"Well, Merle and I can do that no problem," he answered as his attention flickered off to his tent across the field, and then back to her. "Because as long as I carry his crap over for him," he shook his head, "Merle won't care where he's sleeping."

When Carol gave him a grateful smile and a whisper of "thank you so much," for agreeing to that plan, Daryl felt a little funny. So he just shrugged the thanks off.

"Ain't no bother, Peach," he shook his head, "really. It's just a couple of bags to shift."

Then before she could nothing else, he let go of her fingers, and took three steps forward to duck through the wide open doorway in front of him. And yeah, it would figure that Ed was such a moron he hadn't even bothered to zip the door shut when he'd left. So now Daryl had to go through all of Carol's stuff before he gave it back to her, just to make sure nothin' had creeped or slithered into her bags or blankets. He rolled his eyes.

Because that's all they'd need.

And thoughts of a snake curlin' up in Carol's bed roll, were the last ones in Daryl's head before his attention caught on the splatters of blood on the sleeping bag down by his feet. His jaw twitched. Because that would be Carol's blood from the beatin'. And even though he'd already known how bad she'd been hurt, it still made his gut hurt to see that extra evidence of it there. It also made him want to go down to that thicket, and kick Ed in the jaw again.

Once more for good measure, as they say.

Those were more thoughts he pushed aside though, because he'd already promised himself he was done with that fucker. So he tried to just focus on the present moment, while he leaned down to scoop up Sophia's sneakers. After he gave them an upside down shake, (again, keeping an eye for critters that creep or slither) he did a quick rifle through Carol's half open backpack for the same purpose. Then he ran those little metal teeth together, and threw that over his shoulder. Lastly he grabbed up Carol's purse. But that was still zipped all the way across, so he just tossed it on his arm as it was.

Then he stepped out to gather up the ladies again.

When he saw though how Carol had lowered herself down to a crouch, with one palm on the grass, and a worried Sophia's hand on her back holding her steady, his expression softened.

So he stooped down himself, and reached over to brush thumb along Carol's cheek.

"Peach," he whispered, "baby, I know how bad you're hurting. So would you _please_ let me carry you the rest of the way?"

But she just shook her head, while at the same time giving him a pained smile.

"No, no," she started pushing herself up and he immediately reached over to slide his arm around her waist. "It's okay," she continued with a hiss while she dropped her head to his chest, "my legs were just a little tired."

Though Daryl knew from her tone, and the pinched lines of pain around her mouth how that was straight up bullshit, he also knew it wasn't worth it to push it. Because the walk from her tent to the fire pit, was literally half the distance from where they'd started at Lori's place.

So she'd be sitting again soon enough.

"Soon enough," on that day though, even with his help, and Sophia's, still ended up being close to another five minutes, for a walk that generally took about a minute. And when they finally reached the pit, Daryl could see immediately that outside of Merle, most everyone from camp was standing around there drinking their coffee, and talking in little hushed groups.

Of course they all _stopped_ talking when he showed up with Carol and Sophia.

Right after that, there was a moment of VERY awkward silence, which just pissed Daryl off to no end. So he shot them all a hard look, and then cleared his throat.

"Any of you all got questions," he grumbled, "you can just keep 'em to yourselves." Then he shot another look, a less pissy one, over to Jacqui who was stirring something around in the big pot hanging over the fire.

It looked like she was on breakfast duty today, so he added on then, with a pointed tip of his head.

"We're here 'cuz the ladies are hungry."

As expected, Jacqui immediately gave him a sharp nod and a tight smile, right before mutterin', "of course, and the oatmeal's just about done."

Then Amy cut in with a murmur of, "yeah, right. I was about to go get the bowls," as she turned and hurried off in the direction of the RV.

So with all that sorted, and most of the others now at least pretending to find other things to look at besides him and his two companions, Daryl was just about to go get Carol and Sophia seated. But that's when Lori started over to the three of them.

"I'm so glad to see you guys out!" She said while walking up with what looked to be a genuine, and happy, smile.

Yeah, she was the only person there who wasn't acting weird. Then she stooped down in front of Sophia, and reached over to catch her hand.

"If you're feeling up to it honey," she continued on with a soft tone, and a gentle squeeze of Sophia's fingers, "you and Carl can play cards today. We borrowed the deck off Jim."

Sophia blinked and looked over to the little boy in question, standing with Shane on the other side of the fire.

The two children just looked at each other.

"Maybe," she said softly as her gaze flicked back to Lori's, "but Mama and I were going to play our activity books today."

"Well sweetie," Carol cut in then with a pat of Sophia's shoulder, "we can do those with Carl too. I mean," her eyes crinkled, "playing with other people might be fun, right?"

It might've been fun, Daryl really couldn't say 'cuz he wasn't exactly an expert on 'fun' activities. But he could see in how Sophia gave a little shrug as her eyes dropped to her toes, and her toes dug into the dirt, that she wasn't exactly thrilled at the idea. Or maybe it was just bein' back out with everyone that was making her so quiet. Whatever it was, Carol just stared down at her girl for a moment, before she looked back up at Lori.

"Maybe they can play cards a little later in the morning," she said softly, "for now it's probably best that we just going to see how things go."

"Right," Lori murmured back with a twist of her jaw, "of course. Just let me know what you need." Then she gestured over to Andrea, who had been hovering a few feet back.

"And Andrea wa . . ."

But before Lori could finish her sentence, Daryl cut her off with a terse, "Carol needs to sit."

Then he started walking her and Sophia around the fire and over to the log.

And Carol, who truly was on the verge of sliding back to the dirt again, couldn't have been more grateful for that. Also though, she felt a spark of genuine pride in realizing that she had a man now who would stand up for her that way. Though that pride was also tinged with a hint of amusement, that the man in question had been about as subtle and polite on this point, as a brick through a plate glass window.

But it wasn't until after he'd helped her down to the edge of the log seat, and Sophia cuddled in against her side between the two of them, that Carol remembered Daryl had told her before that if she ever had anything to say to him, she should come right out and say it. So with a slightly pained twist, she leaned over her daughter's head, to press her lips to his ear.

"Thank you for looking after me, Pookie," she whispered, "but do you think maybe next time we could please use a little softer tone?"

When she pulled back, instead of seeming regretful, all he did was shoot look of irritation over to Andrea and Lori whispering on the other side of the fire. Then his gaze dropped to the dirt as he rubbed his hands together.

"Ain't got any use for a soft tone," he let out a grunt, "with folks who have eyes to see things for themselves."

After that he was quiet for a second, before the rest of what she'd said seemed to register. That's when his eyes snapped over to hers, as his brow scrunched up.

'Did you just call me _Pookie_?' He mouthed back in confusion. And she let out a huff.

"Just trying it out," she murmured with a little smile, "after all, you do have two for me, and I don't have one yet for you."

Though she really was only joking with the idea of calling him Pookie . . . it was just the first endearment that popped into her head, to lighten _her_ remark . . . the fact that he was starting to look kind of amused by the term, did make it more appealing. And then she saw him shoot her a faint, slightly sheepish, smirk.

"Well," he whispered while shooting a look around to the group to make sure nobody was listening to them, "maybe let's not use it in front of other folks."

That's when Carol found a soft smile touching her lips, as she gave him a little nod. Because now she knew that "Pookie" was a word that she could whisper in his ear, and get that little blush to touch his cheeks, and that ghost of a smile to cross his lips. That would be a Daryl that nobody else would ever get to see. Would ever get to know.

That would be a Daryl who was all hers.

It was a thought that stayed with Carol even when the other women started to bring them over the scattered elements of what was passing for breakfast on that day. Coffee from Amy that was horribly weak and oily, and oatmeal from Jacqui that was just . . . Carol's lips pursed . . . not good at all. And she wanted so badly to get up and go over and get the skillet and a few tablespoons of the vegetable oil and make something out of this lumpy mush, that was at least edible. But she knew that Daryl wouldn't be the only one to have a fit if she tried it. So for her own sake, and for the sake of setting a good example for Sophia, she choked down what was in her bowl with as neutral an expression as possible, for someone who was eating food that just tasted GOD awful. But Carol kept telling herself that they were lucky to even _have_ food, so she needed to be grateful no matter how bad it was.

It was a divine approach to eating that meal, which was easier to apply in principle than practice.

But once she had her bowl cleaned out, and her stomach was mostly full, she very subtly slipped one of the Vicodin chips out from her pocket, and up and into her mouth.

She rinsed it down with the last sip of her slowly cooling coffee.

And after she put her empty bowl and mug down onto the dirt by her sneaker, she looked over to her two breakfast companions. That's when she noticed how Sophia was now leaning against Daryl's side as she slowly spooned her last few bites of oatmeal into her mouth. Again, it made Carol's heart fill to see she already had that trust in him. Because the only way they were going to get through this hell, was with his protection. So the sooner the three of them could solidify into, as Daryl had called them, "a unit," the better things would be.

It was just then that Carol heard Dale call out from behind them, a "hey, guys!" And she, along with everyone else, turned and looked up to the roof.

Dale was pointing into the sky.

"We're getting carrion birds."

The latter he added in a slightly softer tone, followed by a look off towards the thicket where Ed was tied up . . . that's where the vultures had started to circle.

"Hmph," Daryl grunted out while eyeing one of those ugly bastards make a swoop down over the trees, "that's a good sign things'll go fast." Then his eyes snapped back to Carol's.

He gave her a nod.

"Maybe a day or so, and it'll be over."

She looked at him, and then up at the birds again.

"I hope they start on him before he's dead," she muttered.

It wasn't until those terrible words left her mouth, that she realized she'd said them loud enough for other people to hear . . . and those people were looking at her.

Pretty much in horror.

Immediately she felt her cheeks start to burn as her eyes fell to the dirt, but again, Daryl just stepped right in to protect her.

"Already told you folks to keep your questions to yourselves," he growled with a hard look across the fire to Jim and Jacqui, the two who seemed most shocked by the comment, "and that goes double for the judgey looks. Nobody here gets to have an opinion on how these two feel about that asshole, you got it?"

Jacqui bit her lip and nodded . . . Jim just looked away.

And Daryl was just about to drop his bowl on the ground and help Carol to her feet, because she didn't need to be catchin' shit from _anybody_ for ANY reason(!), when Andrea suddenly popped up in front of them.

When he put his hand over on Carol's shoulder, while shooting the other woman a deadly look along the lines that he'd just given the two across the fire, she stooped down, and put her own hand out.

It was in a bit of a defensive wave.

"White flag, Daryl," she sighed, "white flag. I'm not here to upset anyone, I actually have a uh," her eyes shot over to Carol's, "well, a proposition for Carol."

"A proposition?" Carol repeated back in confusion. "What do you mean?"

That's when Andrea gestured off towards the RV. Then she started to explain how she and Amy had agreed that they'd like to offer up their beds in the back to Carol and Sophia, and that they would take their tent in trade. And when Carol began to stammer back how that that was very nice but they couldn't just take their beds away from them, Andrea immediately countered how it was no problem at all, that they'd be happy for the fresh air. And that they'd already talked to Dale too, and he'd said to tell Carol, quote, "mi camper, es su camper."

It was a phrase that Dale had used with Carol before, so she knew it had come right from him. And hearing that he'd used it again now, in this context, made her eyes start to sting.

She had to look down for a second.

When she considered the offer before her though, the idea of taking the only "real" beds away from the Harrison sisters, still felt very strange. It was certainly a very different thing than an even trade for somebody else's tent. Still, Carol couldn't deny that it would be so much better for Sophia, if they could sleep inside four walls again. Real safety was beyond anyone these days, but under the circumstances, that RV was about as close as they could get to genuinely safe sleeping quarters.

So rather than saying no, thank you, we'll be fine staying out in the field all alone, she reached over to put her hand on Sophia's neck.

"If you're sure it's really what you'd like to do," she answered softly as her mouth twisted in a wry smile, "then we'd be very grateful, Andrea. Thank you. And of course if you wanted to switch back at any point, just let me know."

"No, no," Andrea waved her hand again as she pushed herself up, "don't even worry about that. So," she jerked her thumb over her shoulder, "we'll just go pack up and the room should be clear in," she shrugged, "twenty minutes."

Then she turned and walked away, making a gesture towards Amy as she did. And as the two sisters started off towards the RV, Carol turned to look over at Daryl.

"Well, at least you and Merle don't have to switch now."

"Hmph," he hummed back, still eyeing Andrea just stepping through the RV doorway, "still strange her bein' so decent like that."

"Well," Carol bit her lip as her gaze shifted over to Amy disappearing into the trailer, "I don't think Andrea's really a _bad_ person, she's just," her gaze snapped back to his, "snotty."

The last word she mouthed, and Daryl rolled his eyes.

"That's bein' kind," he grunted. Then he shook his head and let out a heavy sigh.

"Anyway, whatever her reasons, I'm glad for you guys gettin' inside, because that was something I was worried about. And I'll go get your stuff for the switch, but uh," his eyebrow quirked up, "is there anything you want of his, or you want me to just dump it all?"

The only thing Daryl was expecting Carol would want to save was the thirty-eight Ed had carried. Even if she wasn't ready to carry it herself, he'd just hold onto it for her. Because God knew they couldn't be tossin' out perfectly good weapons.

Not these days.

"Um," Carol swallowed, "honestly, I'd prefer it all just be burned but I know that's selfish given how we're short on everything. So," her eyes fell down to Sophia's hand clutched in hers, "just offer his clothes up for rags. And all he had for weapons was that gun, and, uh," her brow darkened then thinking back to too many nights of him holding it to her head, "well, I'd prefer not to deal with that." She nodded slowly as her eyes stayed locked onto Sophia's hand, "you should have it. I know he has a couple boxes of bullets too."

"All right," Daryl answered with a quiet exhale, sensing there was some background to the situation with that Smithie, "I'll dig that out and hold onto all of it for now. But at some point, Peach," his tone softened, "I think the gun is something else you should learn how to use."

Seeing her eyes snap back up to his then, and reading the fear in them, he knew he needed to tread light. But he also knew this was a point that needed to be made.

So he gave her a sad smile.

"World ain't gonna get any safer, baby," he said on a whisper, keeping his voice low enough that nobody else could hear him but Sophia, "and what we've seen so far, is probably just the tip of what's out there. So someday you might be real happy you had that gun, and you knew how to pull that trigger."

For a second she just stared at him, while those big blue eyes filled with tears. Still, he could see her processin' what he'd just said. Finally she blinked . . . and the tears went away.

She gave him a slow nod.

"I suppose that's true," she answered with a faint sigh, "but until I'm ready to learn how to pull that trigger, would you please keep the gun tucked away?"

He reached out and brushed his fingers down her cheek.

"Of course," he whispered with a faint twist of his lips, "whatever you want."

Then his hand fell back to his knee, and he was about to push himself up to head off for Carol's tent, when Sophia turned her head.

And she looked up at him with those exact same big blue eyes, as she asked, "when you show Mama how to shoot the gun, can I learn too, Daryl?"

Hearing such a big question, from such a quiet little person, made Daryl feel terribly sad. It was the feeling that came to him even though he'd been handling a rifle since he was younger than Sophia was now. But times were different then. That gun had just been used for hunting game . . . not for shooting people.

Or former people.

Either way, it was a real bad scene thinkin' about having to arm a ten year old girl to keep her safe through the day.

He tried to keep all that off his face though, as he bit his lip.

"Well," his jaw twisted, "that's something your mama and I would need to talk about, angel. But the gun's going away for now, so," he reached over and gave that little hand a gentle pat, "it's nothin' we need to be decidin' on for a while yet."

In the end it really would be Carol's decision, but Daryl didn't want to lay that on her feet, if Sophia was gonna bug her for an answer. And he could see from the grateful nod Carol was giving him over her daughter's head, that she was pleased with the way he'd handled things. So his lip quirked up a bit for her, before he looked down to catch Sophia's eyes again.

For a second that child just stared at him while he stared right back at her. Then she blinked and swallowed before looking off towards the field . . . the one where her father was tied up, waiting to be eaten by the birds. Then she let out a sigh. And when she looked back to him, her lips twisted in a very faint, fearful, smile.

Daryl, realizing then why she might've been asking about the gun, reached over and cupped her cheek with his palm. Then he leaned down to whisper in her ear.

"You don't need to know how to shoot him, little one, 'cuz if it came to it . . . that would be my job."

When he leaned back, he saw her swallowin' over a lump, just before her eyes darted back up to his.

"You promise?"

He let his hand fall from her cheek so he could make the sign of the cross over his heart.

"On my word. But," he shook his head, "it's not gonna ever come to that. Because he's hurt so bad, he ain't gonna get better. Even the birds know that," he pointed up, "that's why they're here."

That's when Sophia looked back up to the sky . . . and then down to the earth. A few seconds after that, her eyes shifted over to his again.

The fear had faded some.

It wasn't all gone of course, a few nice conversations over one morning, weren't gonna wipe out ten years of trauma and abuse, but they were inching along. And that's all he was going for today.

To move a few inches down that path.

Then he shot her a little smile, and her eyes crinkled a bit. So he reached over and put his hand on her head. And as he was giving her a little pat, his eyes snapped back to Carol's.

"All right," he huffed, "time to go get your bags."

"Okay," she nodded, watching as he slowly pushed himself to his feet, "thanks."

"Yeah, yeah," he murmured with a wave over his shoulder, "no need for that."

Her lip quirked up, as he started to walk off. And she watched him cut around the fire, and head back down the path. It wasn't until his figure started to get smaller in the distance, that Carol realized this was the first time she'd watched him walk away, where that was okay.

She didn't have to worry about getting a smack for it.

When he finally disappeared though, and she looked back around at the group, it became clear that even if she wasn't going to get a smack, she was still getting some looks. Though the second she made eye contact with the people who were staring at her . . . T-Dog, Morales and Jim, among them . . . they immediately dropped their eyes. And she knew that was because of Daryl.

His presence lingered.

And it wasn't that she _wanted_ people to be afraid of him, because of course she didn't. What she wanted was for them to understand how great he was, in the same way that she did. But she also couldn't deny that feeling of pride had come to her again. Pride that she was being treated as a person worthy of respect. Even if that respect from the others was built even in part off of their fear of Daryl, the respect she had from _Daryl_ , was real.

And that was all that mattered.

Strangely enough, she found herself making a mental note to tell Daryl what had happened after he left, and how she'd felt about it. It'd been years since she'd had a partner who gave a damn about her feelings on anything, but she knew that he would listen.

And that he would care.

In the meantime though, knowing that he would be gone for at least a few minutes . . . and not wanting to deal to anyone before he got back . . . Carol just wrapped her arms around her daughter, and cuddled her against her chest. Then she closed her eyes.

And she waited.

* * *

 _A/N 2: Yes, I folded in "Pookie!" I have a plan for a regular 'endearment' from Carol for Daryl once they're more established as a couple, but I needed something for her to use here to soften her words, and it was silly enough that I could see her using it the same way she did in canon. I do think I'll keep it though as a secondary term. Like Daryl has Peach as the nickname and 'baby' as the endearment, Pookie would be sweet as the more intimate endearment that she uses just to make him smile._

 _Otherwise, the delay in posting here (even though I've seriously been done with this for about 2 weeks), was because this chapter kept yo yo'ing back and forth between 9k and 15k words, because I was trying to take it out to Rick's arrival. But it was making it 'messy,' in that I couldn't keep a set focus for the chapter. It felt like we were meandering. Finally I dialed it back to where we stopped, because that left the focus on the bond being built between Daryl and Sophia. Because in this world (as in my other big story) that relationship is as important as the Caryl one. And from here you can see now the necessity of Sophia's 'near death' experience the day before, in laying that groundwork for her to let Daryl into their lives this way._

 _I also did go back and forth tone wise, on how 'forward' Daryl would be in taking the lead on that conversation with her. But I felt like that had to come from him, because he was taking this step to 'be responsible' and the responsible way of handling this, WAS to have that conversation. And I think it was easier to him to find the rapport with Sophia, because he saw so much of himself in her. So unlike with Carol where he could sympathize and compare her situation with the abuse his mother had taken, he had actually BEEN Sophia. He knew what she was feeling in a way that nobody else did. And again, she'd already started to latch onto him the day before, so it didn't take much to give her a nudge to latch on to him again._

 _So, next time, Rick! For sure, because it's already written :) I've actually built in probably another four or five days until his arrival, but a lot of that is narrative so we can chug along a little faster to the next stage of the story._

 _And FYI, I am hoping to get a McReedus update posted in the next few days._

 _Thanks all!_


	9. Dawn Of The Dad

**Author's Note:** Just under the 2016 wire!

I know, HUGE gap in posting, but it's a huge chapter so I think we kind of caught up to where we would have been if I'd gotten back here sooner, with more 'normal sized' posts. And yes, This Is Now still exists as an active story. Just life has been a mess but I've been working on everything. If you're interested in McReedus, that story is moving along over on the Nine Lives site. And I also put up a one shot recently here on FF, and I have another couple of those in the works.

To this, this is a very much a Daryl centric chapter as evidenced by the chapter title. And there's a TON of narrative here because we do need to cover the day, so be ready for some reading, folks!

And FYI, this was also a lot to proof so if you see any typos (because it's impossible at almost 24k words that I didn't miss some) I'll probably come across them myself in a day or so when I read over the posted version.

* * *

 _Day 6_

 **Dawn Of The Dad**

Daryl was standing in the middle of Carol's tent trying to figure out what, if anything else, he should gather up. At present he had her pillows, sheets, and blood splattered sleeping bag under his arm, a loose pair of Sophia's small socks in his pants pocket, a worn canvas shopping bag with the remainder of the Peletier emergency rations (the spam and whatnot) on his shoulder, and the plastic handle of their one battery operated lantern, dangling from his fingertips. Given how he'd already pulled Carol's purse, and the ladies joint backpack out of the place earlier, basically of what was left inside the tent now, (what Daryl had on him), was all he could see that they might need.

Or more particularly that they might _want_.

Because the rest of the stuff in there, just seemed to have Ed's stink on it. So before he turned and left, Daryl took a second to kick that asshole's bags, pillow, and bedroll out the door. Then with his free hand, he opened all the flaps on the now completely empty tent, to start airing the place out. Once that was set, he carried all of Carol's stuff across the camp and over to the RV, where he brought it inside, and put it down on the table so she could decide how she wanted to set things up in the back room. And finally from _there_ , he headed outside again, and went over to whisper in Lori's ear about the blood on the sleeping bag, and how there was no way Carol was up to cleaning that today.

Lori promised him that she'd get it washed that morning.

So with all that important stuff now handled, before he went back to finish with Ed's crap, Daryl stopped off at the fire again just to make sure Carol and Sophia were doing okay. When he stooped down though, what he got were two tiny, nearly identical, nervous smiles from each of them. All that did was tell him they were uncomfortable as hell sittin' out there by themselves. Not that he blamed them one bit for that. Because he personally hated having to sit around with the rest of the group himself. He just never felt like he fit in.

Really 'cuz he didn't.

But unfortunately Andrea and Amy weren't done yet in the RV, so for the moment the Peletier ladies really had no place else to go. But he did feel bad leaving 'em there alone even if the stuff he needed to do was important. So after he gave them each a faint smile in return for the ones they'd just given to him, he patted Carol's knee, and promised her he'd be back in just a few more minutes.

Even while she was saying, "okay," her eyes were crinkling as her expression brightened a little more.

It was clear she was tryin' to seem cheerful about the new day, even though it was also clear she was losing what little energy her one cup of crappy coffee had given to her. And knowing full well that she wasn't goin' to be agreeable about going right back to bed . . . not with those promises she'd given to Sophia still hanging out there . . . before he left to go deal with the Ed stuff, Daryl went over to the tripod and got his new woman an unasked for refill on the crappy coffee. It was when he started to cut around the fire again though, that to his surprise, Jacqui reached out and pushed a small packet of raisins into his hand. And when Daryl paused to scowl down at the woman with a bit of justified suspicion, he got a quiet murmur about how they were for Sophia, and that she was sorry if she'd done anything to make Carol feel worse than she already had.

That she hadn't meant to hurt her.

Her words seemed genuine. But still, for a second Daryl just stared at the offering in his hand, now knowing it was a 'sorry' for how Jacqui had been so judgey, judge to Carol over what she'd said about that scumbag who'd tried to rape her, and her daughter. And even if Jacqui was sorry, most of Daryl still wanted to stay good pissed at her, because this woman had had NO right to be casting disappointed looks or thinking unkind thoughts, about someone who had suffered how Carol had suffered. The thing was though, Daryl also knew that stayin' mad wasn't the right way to be dealing with things anymore.

Not if he was gonna be that man Carol and Sophia needed.

Because _that_ man, the one who now had a woman and a little girl to look after, wasn't in no position to be turning down extra food for either of them. Especially of the kind that could be considered a nutritious item for the little one. So rather than doin' what Yesterday's Daryl would've done, tell Jacqui right where could shove those God damn raisins, instead _Today's_ Daryl, just gave that woman a grunt before he closed that little red box up tight in his palm. Then he continued on his way back to the ladies, who he could see were staring at him with a bit of confusion about why he'd stopped by Jacqui's chair to start.

So when he got to the log, he stooped down to hand Carol the coffee cup, and Sophia the little red box. And seeing how they were both on the verge of uttering a "thank you" for those items . . . a thank you that he did not need . . . Daryl just reached out to give a quick tousle of Sophia's hair, as he muttered over to Carol, "the raisins were a sorry from Jacqui. She said she didn't mean to make you feel bad." Then before anymore conversation could be had . . . because it wasn't the place for it . . . he straightened back up, and continued on with the last of the chores he needed to get done for them all to move on with their lives.

And that would be the tossing of Ed's shit.

To that end, he double-timed it back all the way across the busiest part of the camp and out to the field, to snatch up the bags he'd left outside the green tent. And after he'd lugged them over to the grass behind the cars, he started rifling through those two ratty Army surplus duffels looking mainly for the ammo for the thirty-eight . . . and there were two boxes of it in there, just like Carol thought . . . but in the process of looking for those bullets, he also found two other things worth saving. One was a mini Mag light with still working batteries. And knowin' how that was definite to come in handy at some point, but also knowin' how Carol did not seem be inclined to want anything of Ed's at all, regardless of its potential usefulness, Daryl just shoved the light into his pants pocket.

Better he keep it for an emergency than it just go to waste.

The other thing he found was a small, old timey, paint chipped switchblade, buried in the bottom of the last zippered pocket of the second bag. With him and Carol having already talked about useful items, and that switchblade not having come up in that conversation, Daryl figured it had to have either been something that she hadn't known about, or something she'd just plain forgotten about. Whichever it was though, after looking it over, Daryl decided he and Merle had enough knives already. And though Sophia could still use some kind of a weapon of her own . . . she was the only one in their little unit now who didn't have no means of protecting herself . . . as a general rule, Daryl knew that switchblades weren't safe for little people of her size. But not wanting a good sharp blade to go to waste neither, he decided to give the knife to Glenn.

It was sort of as a thanks to him in offerin' to step up that morning when nobody else had.

Not that he told the kid that's why he was givin' it to him. He just walked back across the field, and over to him still sittin' there by the fire drinking his coffee . . . he dropped the knife down into his lap. And when Glenn's eyes shot up to his in surprise, Daryl just gave him a shrug. Then he looked over to where Amy and Andrea where now sitting with their bags scattered at their feet, and he told them that the tent was ready for whenever they wanted to move in. And as they started to pull their stuff together, for just a split, shiny second there, he almost offered to carry their things down for them, if only 'cuz they was doing something nice for Carol and Sophia.

And that meant something to him.

But then he pictured how Andrea would likely react to his offer of help . . . with some kind of feminist bullshit that would just make him roll his eyes . . . so he kept his tongue, just to keep the temporary peace.

It was gonna go soon enough as it was.

So he left them there gathering up their bags, while he went to find Carol and Sophia again. Given how they weren't where he'd left them, and the Harrison sisters were out of the RV, he had to figure the other two had gone inside to settle in. And sure enough, when he stepped up into the little kitchen area, he could see them down in the back, setting up their sleeping quarters. But it wasn't until he'd actually walked down that short hallway and up to the bedroom door, that he saw how the pale blue, oversized sleeping bag he'd brought in earlier, was now missing from the small pile of things on the floor. Which meant Lori must've already grabbed it up for the wash before Carol had come inside. That was good, because he really didn't want her and Sophia sleeping with that kind of harsh reminder of what Ed had done to 'em. And the lucky thing was, this time of year they didn't even really need the sleeping bag anyway, at least not now that they had a roof over their heads again.

The sheets alone would be warm enough.

But to make sure they _would_ be warm enough, Daryl went in and leaned over to help Sophia get the edges of those sheets tucked in nice and tight, while Carol sat on the floor and slowly picked through her backpack, pulling out their clean clothes for the day. Once she had the little stack by her leg though, and the beds were made up, he picked those clothes up and put them on the mattress to his left. Then he stooped down, and with a very small protest from Carol, scooped her up off the floor too.

She got placed down next to the clothes.

As he started to straighten up, she reached out to press her hand over his heart. She didn't say anything though. She just stared up at him with those big blue eyes until he finally blinked and had to look away. When he looked back, the corner of his mouth quirked up just a bit . . . that made one of her dimples pop out. And she looked so cute then, that's when he knew it was time to take his leave.

Before he did something dumb, that is.

Besides that though, even while he was startin' to turn around, he already knew those two needed some privacy to change anyway. But it wasn't until he'd stepped out and had pulled the curtain shut behind him, that worries about how Carol was goin' to work buttons and pull things over her head, started to flood his brain. He had to figure though that Sophia could help her with that stuff.

It probably wouldn't be the first time either.

And yeah, sure enough, probably ten seconds after he'd got himself settled in at the table with his bow by his side, and his head bent over in his hands, he could hear Sophia's little girl voice murmuring, "no, I got it, Mama, you just lift your arm a little." Then he heard a ragged moan which made him wince like he was the one in pain. 'Cuz he knew that was Carol.

Just trying to get her shirt off.

And though he so much wanted to go in there and help her, he knew it wouldn't be proper. Maybe if it had only been Carol in there it would've have been okay, but clearly he couldn't be in the room with Sophia changing too. So he just tried to be patient and not listen to the whispers and murmurs that kept comin' through the curtain.

He could tell though, from the sniffling, and sad, teary, voice on Sophia, that she was near to heartbroken seeing all those fresh bruises on her mama's body. But then he heard Carol whispering how it was okay, because they were the last marks like that she was ever going to get.

That that part of their life was done now.

Her saying that actually made Daryl's eyes start to burn, 'cuz he knew her words were coming from how she felt safe with him, and how she knew he would never hurt her. And also how he'd be God damned if he let anyone _else_ ever lay a hand on that woman again either. Of course in this new world, keeping the people you cared about safe, was a hell of a hard thing to do. Jesus, just ask Jacqui or Jim. Or T-Dog.

None of them had anybody left.

Shane's mama and daddy were dead for sure. And the Harrison sisters, they didn't know what'd happened to their parents. Lori neither. Even he and Merle, they had an aunt and a couple cousins that were living up somewhere way out in the Ozarks. They could be dead. Or not.

Or maybe they were something in between.

Odds were good though they'd never find out any which way. And it wasn't even like they'd ever been close with those folks . . . it was Momma's older sister and her kids . . . but it was something just knowin' you had kin out in the world. And now _not_ knowin' if that was still true one way or the other . . . his nose twitched . . . it was strange. Bottom line was though, basically for most folks who'd made it this far past the infection, most of the family they'd had before was gone. All that was left to build your world around, were these groups like theirs.

Strangers all come together just tryin' to stay alive one day to the next.

Again, if he was thinkin' odds, odds were good this group would probably splinter up at some point soon. Because the day was coming, and it was coming up fast, where they'd need to make some choices about what to do next. Because living the way they were up on this hill, all exposed and out in the open, foraging from day to day with limited weapons, and no real shelter, defenses, or clean water supply, that sure as shit wasn't no long term planning right there.

This was just something that fell together after they'd all gotten fucked on the highway.

But Shane, he kept talking about going to some fort that was like a hundred miles off, and he was saying it enough that Daryl was pretty sure he was serious about tryin' for it. It was hard to say though who would want to go along with him. A hundred miles these days was a hell of a trip. Roads were clogged with cars and bodies. The dead were everywhere. Plus most the gas pumps this close to the city were bone dry. So to take a hard journey like that, you'd have to KNOW what you were goin' to find at the end of it. The thing was though, there was no guarantee of nothin' no more.

All they had were the odds.

And for this kinda conversation, he hadn't worked 'em out yet. But anyway . . . he scrubbed his hand across his mouth . . . all that kind of future planning, it was something to bring up with Carol in a day or so, when she was feelin' a better. Because he was gonna to have to get some idea on what her preferences were, and how much more she wanted to risk. Because he wasn't goin' to be like Ed just making decisions and her having to live with 'em. She was going to have her say. He nodded to himself.

And he was gonna listen.

To that point, hearing the curtain start to rustle . . . another thing to listen for . . . he lifted his head and turned to look around the corner. Carol and Sophia were just coming through into the hall.

Sophia was helping Carol walk along.

They were each now wearing the clean clothes that Carol had picked out, and it looked like Carol still wasn't wearing a bra neither. He had to figure though, the straps probably would've hurt like the devil cutting into those bruises of hers. And though he had been . . . and still was . . . trying not to look at her chest, it was damn near impossible not to keep noticing those curves there. It was just that she had a real nice figure, and those clothes she'd pulled on in a hurry last night . . . the tank top and shortie pajama pants . . . were the first ones he'd seen her in that really showed that figure off. Of course that was probably 'cuz before that, Ed had been the one making all the choices about what she could and couldn't wear. Like right now, her shirt was a tank top like she'd had on earlier. And mostly it seemed like before when she'd wear one of those, she'd have to wear something with sleeves on top of it.

No matter how fuckin' hot it was, that woman was always in two layers.

So it was good to see her now feeling like she could wear what she wanted to wear. And as Carol shuffled over to the table . . . it was clear she was worse for wear just from the effort of changing . . . he immediately hopped up and took her arm from Sophia, so she could drop down onto the bench seat where he'd been sitting facing the door.

Sophia immediately stepped over to slide in on the other side.

And once Carol had slid in far enough for him to sit down again, he plopped back onto the seat, and slipped his arm up and around her shoulders. It only took a second before Carol leaned over to rest her head on his chest. And her body was so heavy against his, that he wanted to suggest right then that she go in and lie down, but he kept his tongue, because he knew that one was still a non-starter. He might talk her into resting in a few hours, but definitely not now. It would be a point of pride with her to stay up.

And the stubbornness of pride was somethin' he understood all too well.

So instead of the sleep Carol needed, or the trip down to the quarry that Sophia wanted . . . even with his help, there was no way in hell her mama would be up to straying that far again for at least a day . . . somehow Daryl talked those two ladies into starting their big "free" day, by just doing their activity books. And that actually ended up being something they were both into, 'cuz they liked to do the crossword puzzles together. Crosswords weren't something he was into himself . . . people were always using more words than were needed to just speak plain . . . but for the forty minutes or so that those two were working on the ones they had, he did get some real amusement just listening to how they giggled over the clues. On Carol's side though, the more time that passed, the more noticeable it was how she had started doing some _sleepy_ giggling. And then they were moving up into an hour plus having passed, and she started to smother her yawns into the back of her hand.

The weight on her against his chest was gettin' heavier.

And whether Sophia picked up on her mama's exhaustion the same way he did, he didn't know, but it was becomin' clear that Carol wasn't gonna be able to stay awake much longer. But his thought there was, it was likely that tension had been the only thing keeping her going these few hours she'd been up, and the more relaxed she got, the more her poor battered body was just shutting down. And then just like he was expecting, all of a sudden Carol's head tipped forward as she slumped into his side.

She passed out with the pen still in her hand.

And though he was happy she was finally getting the rest she'd need to get better, when he'd looked up he saw that Sophia was staring over at them, wide eyed . . . she was scared. So he quickly brought his free hand up, and his pointer finger to his mouth, in the universal show of, 'quiet.' He just wanted her to know, there wasn't nothing to worry about. It was only sleep.

Her mama wasn't dead.

And lucky enough, that motion seemed to be all that little girl needed to reassure her things were okay. Because she immediately gave him back a quick nod, and a relieved smile. So his attention shifted over to Carol again, and how to best get her off to bed without waking her up. But with his arm already around her shoulders it wasn't too hard. He just tugged her over with him to the edge of the bench seat, and then when he went to stand, he made a quick move to scoop her up and into his arms at the same time. Then he turned, and with a little bit of maneuverin' to keep from bumping his woman's already bruised face, he carried her down the short hallway, and went in to place her onto her brand new bed in the back of the trailer. And with those nasty bruises on her chest and back, he made sure she was balanced on her good side, before he covered her up with the clean sheet, and leaned in to press a light kiss on her forehead.

She didn't stir even once.

So he fixed the blinds to hide the sun, gave one more light pat to her leg, and then left her there to rest up in the one place he was sure she'd be safe even if he left. And he knew he was going to have to leave, because there was just no way to keep Sophia inside and busy, without them waking up her mama. And sure enough, as he was walking out of the bedroom, he could see that girl already standing up in front of the table, wringing her hands together. But it was odd that even though Sophia had seemed relieved when he left to put Carol down on the bed, now she was staring up at him with a worried crease in between those little eyebrows of hers. It was clear she'd gotten some kind of bug in her head since he'd been gone.

So he lowered himself down to her height.

"You don't need to be fretting there, angel," he whispered with a faint crinkle of his eyes, and a brush of his thumb along that soft cheek, "your mama's okay, I promise. It's just been a real hard couple a days, and her body needs lots of rest now so it can mend up. So that fun stuff you guys wanted to do," his nose wrinkled a bit, "it might have to wait 'til tomorrow, or maybe even the day after, because I think she could sleep a good while, and then still need to sleep some more."

Strange enough, though he really didn't have much experience with kids of Sophia's age, somehow he did seem to (so far) have a knack for sayin' the right thing when it came to talking to Sophia herself. Maybe it was because he gave her straight answers when most often grownups liked to lie to kids about what was really going on around them.

Like they were stupid or something instead of just being young.

But whatever it was he was doing, it was working all right for now. Because after he was done talkin', all Sophia did was shoot a look over his shoulder towards the sleeping area, before her eyes darted back to his again. Then she let out a heavy breath and bit her lip, right before she gave him a sharp nod. Like _okay, I believe you._

 _My mama ain't gonna die._

And she sure as shit was NOT goin' to die, not if he had something to say about. And then Sophia cut into his thoughts there, by askin' on a whisper, what they were going to do while her mama slept, which was when Daryl realized that with there being no other kin left worth mentioning, that girl really was his responsibility to look after for probably the full day. And by responsibility, he was thinking, not just in the general way he'd already accepted he was looking after her now for shelter and safety.

No, he'd just landed on straight up babysitting!

After giving it a quick thought though, he decided it probably was a good thing, them spending some time together all on their own. What with him already so fond of this girl's mama, it was important he and Sophia . . . who he was swearin' on his life to keep safe . . . got to know each other better. It would just make things more comfortable in general, was his thought.

Well . . . his jaw twitched . . . hopefully, anyway.

Either way, good idea or not, this was the hand they'd been dealt. So rather than freaking out about suddenly having a traumatized ten year old girl to look after, he just took a deep breath . . . and went with the flow. Because that's all there was really to any of this.

The flow.

And once he'd promised Sophia they could still have a nice day doing the stuff she'd wanted to do, he gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze as he rose up to his feet. That's when he turned to reach over and rip out one of the already filled in pages of the crossword puzzle book. And in the ragged edge of that empty grey margin, he made a short, to the point, neatly printed note for Carol. It read:

 _Peach - Sophia's safe with me, and you need to sleep. So you take another half pill and go back to bed. -Daryl_

For a second he debated about puttin' a couple of those Xs and Os on the end there, but he'd literally never done that before.

Ever.

All these years, he'd just never had a girl he cared enough about to do it for. And if he was honest with himself, he wasn't even sure which one was the hug, and which one was the kiss! Given how he and Carol weren't kissing yet though, knowing the difference was kind of important. Like if you were trying to speak a language when you didn't know what the words meant.

You just come off looking like an idiot.

But it did feel kinda, well . . . his nose wrinkled . . . 'stern' was the word, maybe, just leaving the note the way he'd written it, with nothing else to soften the message. It read sort of like he was grumbling at her. His jaw twitched.

He didn't want it to read that way.

It just wasn't clear to him though, what he could add to make it not read like that. And hoping maybe the little one might have an idea, he shot a glance over at Sophia who was staring down at his words with kind of a curious wrinkle in her nose.

Then she lifted her head.

"Aren't you going to put a hug and a kiss?" She whispered to him as her eyes snapped back up to his, "Mama always signs her notes to me with a hug and a kiss."

He snorted.

Of course Carol signed all her notes with a hug and a kiss, because that was just a totally Carol thing to do! And that was JUST the kind of thing that softened up any message a person could leave for another.

It still just felt too weird to him though.

But after another second of staring down at the note, and then looking back to Sophia, he knew exactly what to do. So he brought the pen up, and handed it off to Sophia with a hushed instruction of, "Angel, down there at the end, you write 'bye, mama,' and put the hug and kiss with that."

So she did just like he said. And it really was the perfect compromise. Because when Daryl saw his words mixed together with Sophia's, he knew it was just the right mix of sensible and sweet.

With Sophia providin' all the sweet.

That was okay though, he thought, while folding that paper up so only the part of the margin where their note was, was showing, it was still early days for the three of them. And maybe someday he'd have occasion to write another note for Carol, and maybe by then he'd be an XO kind of guy.

A person never could tell about such things.

Because as he laid that piece of paper out in the middle of the table in such a way so Sophia's mama couldn't miss it, he knew that if somebody had told him a week ago, how he was about to get himself a joint package of a nice lady friend, and a sweet little girl all his own, he would've said that somebody was fuckin' crazy as shit. And he also would've said he didn't want to be saddled with no lady and her kid.

No matter how nice they were.

But here he was, takin' Sophia by the hand, and foldin' her little fingers up so they were safe in his, and he felt real good doin' that. Even better still when that little blondie head tipped back, and he got a shy smile from that angel face. So he shot her a wink, and started leadin' her out of the trailer.

He stepped back to grab up his bow, just before they walked out the door.

Then of course the first thing he had to do when they came down the step, was to shoo off all of the well-meaning ladies, Lori included, who saw that the two of them were alone and immediately rushed over and began offerin' to look after Sophia for him. And with Sophia digging her nails into his palm, and pressing her nose into his chest, he just put his free hand on her shoulder and murmured a tight, "we're just fine as is, ladies," to make it clear he didn't need nobody's help with this girl. Because she was his now.

At least as far as the rules of the new world went.

And so _by_ those rules, this little one wasn't going out of his sight until her momma took full custody of her again. That was how this was gonna work. He was going to be a _re_ -sponsible adult, because that's what Carol needed him to be. And it wouldn't be so hard, really.

It'd just take a bit of practice.

So what he did then, after he'd walked the two of them out of the main socializin' area that is, was to stop, and stoop down to ask Sophia if she wanted a piggyback to the quarry. He got a big grin from her for that, because it turned out she'd never had a piggyback before. So he slipped his bow down off his shoulder so he could hold it in his hand. Then he let Sophia climb up onto his back. And after she'd hooked her arms around his neck, and her legs around his waist, he put his free hand on her sneaker.

They headed off.

It was probably his fifth or sixth trip through the camp just since sun up, but that was no matter. Given how he usually did a good five to ten miles back and forth through the forest each day, this circling around was nothing. And Sophia at least seemed to be happy to be getting some air. She was pretty excited pointing out the birds flying in formation overhead.

Unfortunately they were all up too high to snag for a meal.

So they just kept walking along through the paths and the tall grass, then the scrub, to the rocky hill, and finally down to the quarry's edge. That's where he stooped down, and Sophia slipped to the ground. And while she started to take her socks and sneakers off, he lowered himself the rest of the way down to drop onto the hard sand.

He put his bow down beside him.

And when she waded into the shallows to cool herself from the heat, he kept a real close eye on her. Not like splashing around in water up to her calves was dangerous on its face, but all Daryl was picturin' was that child somehow tripping over a rock, then flying off, little ass over little tea kettle, and taking a header into the deep.

But the two of them going through one rescue dive that week, was more than enough.

Also, after all the crap that kid had gone through with her daddy, the most important thing right then, was just her bein' happy. So he was relieved to see that she seemed to find bein' in the water by herself now, to be as peaceful as he had when he'd come down alone earlier that morning.

Sometimes you just needed people to leave you be.

The problem was, even though the world had ended, it was still hard to find peace and quiet. Because just like Lori had come looking for him, they weren't down there more than maybe twenty minutes or so, when all the camp ladies . . . which included Lori walking Carl along carrying the soap . . . started traipsing down the hill, to start the day's laundry. The only upside there by Daryl's thinking . . . and he was _desperately_ looking for an upside because he was NOT pleased to be invaded by these women . . . was that Sophia might at least be happy to play with her little buddy.

But it seemed she still wasn't ready for real socializing.

Because the second she spotted the ladies starting to set up their milk crates, Sophia came splashin' out of the water, to rush over to him sitting there in the dirt. She immediately started yanking on his arm like the house was on fire.

"We need to go now Daryl, we need to GO!"

Yeah, that was her panicked little whisper while those small fingertips dug deep into his flesh. It was enough to give him pause, just seeing how freaked she was even when it was only the ladies there. Given what had happened with her daddy, he would've thought she'd feel most safe around them.

Clearly she didn't.

And not knowing what was the right thing to say then to calm her down, he shot Lori a quick look just to see if with her being a female person herself, not to mention being somebody with a LOT more experience looking after kids than him, might have something helpful to say on this point that he (or Sophia) might need to hear.

All she did though, was just give him a sympathetic shrug, which he knew meant she didn't know jackshit, either. So with her and all the other ladies now standing back in a worried circle, he reached out to grab up Sophia's socks and sneakers, just before he hopped to his feet. Then he leaned down to snag his bow and toss it over one shoulder, before he leaned down to scoop Sophia up onto his other hip. The way she buried her face into his neck then, was just like when they were back in Lori's tent. And that made him feel so sad. But he knew it wasn't the place to poke into things, because that child had already told him that she needed to leave. So he was going to respect her wishes there.

He started walkin' them out.

All the way along the rocky path up the hill though, he felt her hot little breath huffin' so hard and fast on his ear, that he realized she was likely having some kind of a flash about something. And once they were back in the field, and in sort of a private spot by the brush, he put her down so he could ask, in a real gentle tone, what was wrong. She wouldn't say though. She just shook her head in almost a violent way, as her eyes started to fill up. That's when Daryl realized he wasn't goin' to be able to bear that child's tears, any more than he could her mama's. So he immediately opened his arms again, only to have that little body collapse against his chest.

He hugged her in tight.

There weren't any sobs that time though, just these horrible shakes. And she was clutchin' onto him like they were in the middle of a hurricane, and she was afraid she was about to be blown away. And all his whispering that she was okay, and her mama was okay, and he wasn't gonna let anybody hurt either of them ever again . . . a promise he prayed would always be true . . . didn't seem to be doing anything at that moment. So finally he just shut up. Because it was clear something had dug deep under her skin, and his words weren't gonna fix it. So he just tipped his head down, and cuddled her up until the shakes went away. That's when he tried talking to her again.

He started with a whispered question.

"Angel," he asked with a light pat to her back, "please, can you try and tell me now what's scared you so much?"

It took a minute from there, but finally she murmured back against his chest, "the other day in the tent, after dinner, Daddy hit Mama for staying too long down with the ladies doing the wash. And she couldn't stop crying because he kept hitting her low in the back."

Then she pulled her little head away to give him a serious look.

"Those hurt the worst you know," she said with a teary sniffle, "the ones down there."

Feeling his eyes start to sting, Daryl had to blink and look away for a second. When he looked back, he gave her a slow nod and a sad smile.

"Yeah I know, those ones do hurt the worst." Then he bit his lip before adding softly, "my daddy hit me there too."

Counting Carol, this was the second time today he'd made mention of how he'd grown up with an asshole for a father. And it wasn't like him at all to go around telling people how he used to take a regular beating, because that wasn't nobody's damn business. Plus it was all long in the past now.

He was a grown man who could take care of himself.

But Sophia . . . he bit down a sigh . . . she wasn't grown. And she couldn't take care of herself. Not yet. That was gonna change though. Her and her mama both, they were going to be taught how to defend themselves at least against the walkers to start. Then after that, after he'd seen they could kill one of those things all on their own, he'd move on to other lessons. Like how to deal with the bad men that they'd be coming across. Because bad men, they _thrived_ in a world like this.

And just like the cockroaches . . . they never died.

But for now, he thought it might mean something just for this little girl to know she wasn't alone dealing with this crap. Because he'd already lived that hell. And he got past it.

She would too.

And he could see in the now how her eyes slowly widened as she stared up at him. Then for just a second she looked so sad . . . but that only lasted a second. After that her expression started to brighten, until finally she was giving him a big, watery smile . . . then she threw her arms around his neck.

"I'm sorry you had a mean daddy too," she sniffled against his shoulder, "but I'm glad you and Mama made friends."

Hearing her say those words, it made his heart swell as his eyes got blurry. Because he was starting to see then how easy it was to fall for the idea of having kids. And he was saying that as a person who did not have hardly anything good to look back on in his own family life. This situation now though, he thought with a gentle rub of his hand down Sophia's back, it was all different. Because this little one he was holdin' now, was filled with nothing but goodness and light.

Those were not qualities found in a person of his blood relation.

So when he leaned back to give Sophia a faint smile, for the first time since they'd met, he started to feel a real _binding_ affection for that child. Before it was like he cared just 'cuz she was a sweet girl, and she was Carol's flesh. And that second one had been enough all on its own, for him to protect her with his life.

What he'd started to feel now was different though.

Especially when how he started to push himself up to his feet, she kept her arms locked around his neck. And he was thinking the reason for her doing that, was maybe coming from the same place as these feelings he was having for her did. Like their separate connections to Carol didn't play a part here no more.

This was just them.

So he just stood there for a second, and gave that little girl a good tight hug as she rubbed her nose into his neck. She was burrowing in just like her mama had.

It made his eyes burn.

"We'll be all right, angel," he whispered in her ear, "we just need to let your mama rest up, and the three of us we'll make ourselves a plan with Merle, and then we'll figure out somewhere safer to go, okay?"

She sniffled just once then, before she tipped her head back to catch his eyes.

"Merle?" She asked with a note of fear in her voice. And he hated to hear that there.

That she was scared of his brother.

So his lips twisted as he tried to give her a smile . . . but he just couldn't quite manage it.

"I know he's loud," he started on a whisper, "and he can be a little scary, and a lot of times he says mean things to folks that he shouldn't say, but . . ."

And then Sophia cut in with, "he says the bad word about T-Dog and Jackie."

And Daryl winced, because he was really hoping that would be one thing Sophia maybe hadn't picked up on yet . . . how his brother used the N word on a near daily basis. And he used it not just for talkin' behind people's backs . . . like so many folks Daryl had known back home did . . . but as a thing to use right to their faces.

To hurt 'em as much as he could.

For a second he couldn't think of nothin' to say though, because his brother's behavior wasn't something he could think of a way to explain that might make sense to a little one with a kind heart. Finally he realized the truth was the only thing there was. So he just let out a sigh, and shook his head.

"Yeah he does say it," he murmured, "and I'm sure your mama's told you that ain't a word to be using at all. And I'm not going to say it's all right Merle does it," he shook his head, "'cuz it ain't. But the thing is," and Daryl's jaw twitched then, "he might be a grown up, but Merle still just don't know, no better. Because our daddy taught him that word, and he filled him up with a whole bunch of hate and blame for other folks just because they were different than us. I'll be honest with you, angel," he gave her a sad smile, "he did the same to me. And I've used those bad words before myself."

Seeing those bright blue eyes widen with surprise and disappointment, Daryl had actually never felt more ashamed of himself. So he had to stop and look down for a second before he kept talking. But before he could get his thoughts sorted again, he heard that little voice, now with an undercurrent of sadness, come back again.

"You say those bad words too?"

And feeling his gut twist at that tone he could hear, his eyes snapped back up to hers.

He shook his head.

"No," he cleared his throat and blinked away the faint bit of moisture that'd been forming, "no, not no more. I ain't said 'em to anybody in a long time. I know I'm not always nice to everybody here," his brow darkened a bit, "but you can't always be nice, 'cuz people will walk on you, and take advantage. You need to remember that. Standin' up for yourself though," he shook his head, "it don't mean that you need to use words like that to make your point about getting respect. I didn't learn that lesson until I was maybe about uh," his brow scrunched, "Amy's age, probably. One day back then, I got mad at this lady for bumping into me at the grocery store," his lips pressed together, "it was just an accident, but I got real mad, real easy back then, so," he took a shallow breath, "I used all those bad words on her like daddy taught me," he tipped his head, "some stuff I said was even worse than just the N word, but that one was in there too. And uh," his voice started to thicken, "well, I ended up making the lady cry, and I um," he nodded slowly, "I felt real bad about that. It wasn't 'til that happened though, that I'd seen how just words by themselves, could hurt someone so bad like you actually raised a hand to 'em." His voice faded off, "and that was a thing to see. So uh, anyway," he cleared his throat again, "that's how I started to learn different than Daddy had taught. And I might lose my temper from time to time, but I've tried not to be so mean since then. Merle though," Daryl blinked and shifted back to the main topic of their conversation, "he never had much of a chance to learn different, before that meanness was just all he knew."

Then he paused for a second, before he gave a shake of his head.

"He ain't all bad though," he continued softly, "and he's my brother, so," he shrugged, "he's blood to me, like your mama is to you. And your mama and me being, uh . . . friends the way we are, that kind of binds all the four of us together. That'll be our whole little unit, and that means Merle'll be responsible for you too. He'll protect you and your mama like . . . well," Daryl tipped his head to the side, "maybe not exactly like I will, but," his lips pursed, "he wouldn't let a walker get you, and he wouldn't let no bad person steal you away. I can promise you that much from him. Because just like me, he don't abide nobody hurting little kids. And that was why he uh, well, this morning he helped me take care of your daddy," his voice faded off, "if that means something to you."

It was hard to say if it was puttin' too much on a little brain, to understand the finer points of how somebody could be an asshole through and through at their core, and still be decent too, right at the same time. And a moment passed where Sophia was just quiet, and chewing on her lip. Then finally her brow scrunched.

"You promise he won't hurt Mama or me?"

Daryl gave a firm jerk of his head.

"On my life, angel," he said seriously, "he wouldn't lay a hand on her or you. He might say mean stuff to ladies sometimes, but he only fights with men."

Not to say Merle hadn't given the occasional tackle to a woman who'd gone after him with a frying pan, or a baseball bat . . . his brother tended to have some 'overlappin' relationships . . . but even that tackling usually just ended in some really gross make outs and dry humping on the floor. His brother had a lot of faults, and a lot of bad shit he'd picked up from their daddy, but thank God beatin' up women was one thing he'd left on the shelf. In the now though, Daryl could see how that little brain was once again thinkin' on what he'd just said. Finally she blinked and looked down to the scrub. When she looked back up again, she gave him a nod. She didn't say anything though.

Maybe she couldn't think of anything to say.

So for a moment they just looked at each other, then the corner of his lip quirked up a bit, and her eyes crinkled. And that was that.

They were back on track again.

So with that business sorted, he stooped down to help Sophia get her socks and sneakers back on. And they did that with her putting one hand on his back, so she could lift up first one foot, then the other, while he slipped first the socks on, then the sneakers, before he got her all laced up again.

He just figured it was faster that way.

After that, she stood there in front of him, with a faint, almost nervous smile on her face, like she wasn't sure what was supposed to happen next. Honestly Daryl wasn't quite sure what was supposed to happen next either. But then he heard an owl hoot off in the trees, and an idea came to him.

His eyebrow quirked up.

"You wanna help me look for some dinner?"

Her whole face lit up then, as she clapped her hands together.

"Oh yeah," she answered with a big grin, "I'd like that!"

So after he stopped and got a couple of supplies out of his tent, Daryl did indeed take Sophia on a mini hunting trip with him. And being mindful of stray walkers, he didn't venture more than ten yards in from the tree line. Also, the whole time they were out there, he kept that girl hitched up to a rope he'd grabbed from his pack, and attached to his belt, because God knew he wasn't goin' to have her somehow wanderin' off, or gettin' separated from him and being lost in the trees. And all that rope had on it was a three foot lead, which gave him just enough elbow room to use the bow without conking her in the head. And really she was just so excited about being able to help do something real like find dinner, that she didn't even care that she was on a leash like a dog. In fact, she actually lived up to her nickname.

She was a perfect little angel the whole hour plus they were out there.

In fact, she didn't say a peep without him speakin' first, except for letting out one, breathy, "oh," when he finally spotted a squirrel, and put a bolt in its head. It was when she was starin' up so wide eyed and intent at the tiny body speared to the tree, that he put his hand on her shoulder.

"You all right there, little one?" He asked softly, wondering if maybe he'd made a mistake in bringing her out with him to do this. But then he saw her eyes snap up to his, right before she gave him a sharp nod.

"Uh huh," she said, "I'm okay." Her attention shifted back to the tree as she finished in a quieter tone, "I was just thinking it would be messy."

That was it. She wasn't upset about him killing the squirrel . . . she'd only been surprised there was such a thing as a clean kill. Thinking about it though, her surprise made sense. Because until the world ended, and she started seeing walkers get put down left and right . . . and that was _always_ some messy shit . . . Sophia had probably never seen anything get killed before. And though he wasn't sure how Carol would feel about him having an 'in depth' discussion with her ten year old about the wheres and whatfors of why walkers were always a mess to put down, he also knew that child now lived in a world where innocence of death, in all its stages, was a thing of the past. And it was part of his responsibility now, to make sure she could live in this new world and understand those things.

And he wasn't taking that responsibility light.

So after giving himself a moment to decide on the right words . . . which he did while he pulled his squirrel off the tree . . . he turned around and gave Sophia a VERY brief 'overview,' maybe would be the right word, on the difference between a walker kill, and a dinner kill. And why the second one could be done clean, and the first one couldn't. And when he was done, Sophia's nose wrinkled up as she looked down to the furry little body he'd just tied to his belt.

"Got it."

That was all she said . . . got it. Then she reached up to take his hand. So after he gave her a quick, focused, look to make sure she really was all right . . . and she did seem to be . . . he led her out of the woods.

As they stepped back into the outer field though, Daryl realized they should've doubled back some before they broke out into camp again. Because where they were coming from, led them out almost on top of where Ed was tied up.

And that was a GIANT fuck up on his part!

So before Sophia picked up on where they were, he dropped her hand, and leaned down to swing her up on his hip. Then he tucked her head down on his chest.

"Keep your eyes closed for a minute, little one," he whispered while keeping his hand cupped around her face to block her side vision, "we just need to get out of the field."

Of course that child was no fool, because not two seconds after he said that, there was a near painful dig of her small fingertips into his shoulders. That was followed by the frightened murmur of, "is my dad here?"

Yeah, he cursed himself for that, even while he was eyeing her daddy not ten paces ahead.

"No, angel," he hummed the lie while moving them quickly through the tall grass, "it's okay. He's not here. But I know you don't wanna see him again, and right now we are close enough to get a look, so you just keep your eyes closed until I say it's okay."

They were actually close enough right when he said those words, that Daryl could see Ed clear as day tied to that willow tree Shane had picked out for him. He was trussed up like a lobster, with bindings on his hands, wrists, and feet, then a rope twisting all around his chest and mid-section, before it got circled twice around the tree. There was no way in hell anyone was gettin' loose from that.

Especially not this particular asshole, in his particular condition.

That would be the condition where he was laying there, close to half dead, still seeping out blood from the breaking of his nose, and the slice and dice of his package. And when Daryl's eyes caught with the half swollen shut ones on the other man, all he could see there was blackness . . . even though there was agony on his face. But that fury there inside Ed for the vengeance he wanted to wreak, was probably being fed ten times over for seein' Daryl with his daughter. When it looked like he was about to try and speak though . . . that smashed jaw was dropping further open . . . Daryl stopped short and shot that man back a black look of his own.

It was a warning not to even try to make a sound.

Because after all he'd done already, he would not hesitate to come back later that night, and cut out that man's tongue if he said anything nasty in front of Sophia. After all, he and Ed were already both going to hell.

Just different levels.

So as a final partin' gift to the one going straight into the pits, just before he started them moving again, Daryl brought his free hand up . . . and flipped Ed off. Again those blood rimmed eyes flashed black, but that time there was no effort to speak.

All he did was swallow.

Yeah, he was a little bitch and a coward all the way to the end. No surprise there though. That was the basic makeup of any asshole who beat up on ladies and little kids . . . bitches and cowards all the way. And he'd had enough of this particular specimen, so he let out a heavy sigh as he tipped his head down to whisper in Sophia's ear, "it's okay angel, we're goin' to go find your mama, now." And with that, they walked off and left Ed tied to the tree.

Hopefully he'd be dead by sundown.

He was in bad enough shape already though, that Daryl made a point of not telling Sophia it was okay to open her eyes again, until they'd actually reached the cars. That was a good three minute walk, even double timing it through the grass, but he felt it was worth it. Because he knew by the time they got to where he stopped to put her down, that Ed had just become a speck in the distance again. And that's all he ever was anyway.

Just a speck of dirt on the planet.

Still, Daryl could see in how Sophia was looking up at him now with those young, old eyes of hers, that she'd sensed Ed was closer maybe than he'd said. And for a second he almost told her the truth, how he really was just a few feet away, but then she bit her lip, and gave him a tiny smile. There was a lot of sadness in it, but it seemed like she was trying to tell him it was okay.

That she forgave him the lie.

So he reached down and cupped her jaw.

"He'll be gone soon," he said softly, "I can promise you that."

And when she nodded and reached out to take his hand again, his expression softened, because even understanding now how he'd lied, there was still no waver in her trust of him . . . she was just like her mama. There was something to admire about that, seeing good qualities passed from one generation to another. That wasn't a thing he was familiar with himself, because all he could see was the bad stuff that was passed down in his family.

Whatever decency could be found seemed to be more luck than anything else.

That was a thing he was tryin' to change though, in himself. If not to be good . . . because he wasn't sure if he could be . . . to at least not be bad. The middle was his path.

And it was one he walked like a tightrope.

And to the point of stayin' on that tightrope, he decided it would be best to walk over then and put his kill down on the worktable, and just deal with it later. On a normal day, he'd dress his game as soon as he got back to camp, so he could pass the meat off to the ladies for dinner. But the part of him that worked hard at not making wrong choices, knew that Sophia shouldn't be there for the cleaning and gutting of that little squirrel. The day might come where he'd find that was a skill he'd need to pass on to her and her mama, but this was not the day yet. As wise as she was in some ways, she was still only a little kid. One who was growing up much too fast . . . a lot like he had . . . but he wanted to keep a small part of the ugliness of this world from her, for a bit longer. Everything would come in time.

He just prayed it wouldn't all come with a vengeance.

And after he'd laid that furry little body out on the stump behind his tent, and got him and Sophia untangled from the rope he'd had around them both, he put the slightly frayed nylon cord down on the table, before he leaned over to pick up the little one again. And he did that, because he could see in how she was yawning and rubbing her eyes, that she was pretty worn out. Truth be told, after only having slept maybe three plus hours himself, she wasn't the only one who'd had enough of doin' stuff for the time being. They both needed a nap.

And given how they'd missed lunch, probably a snack before they laid down.

Either way, it was time they headed back to the RV. Of course that meant walking through the main, busy, part of the camp again. And it meant getting those same watchful looks from the ladies in particular. All of them probably wondering how a degenerate inbred hillbilly like him, had been trusted to look after a sweet little girl all on his own. But he ignored them. Just opting instead to keep his eyes down in the dirt as Sophia yawned against his neck.

He just kept telling himself, the others didn't matter. What they _thought_ of him didn't matter. All that mattered was this girl and her mama.

The rest of them were only noise.

And that noise all faded off, when he carried Sophia up the creaky metal step, and back inside the trailer. As soon as they stepped through the door though, he could see that Carol hadn't woke up yet. That was clear from how the note in the middle of the table hadn't been moved even an inch in the three plus hours since they'd been gone. That was good though, because Carol needed all the sleep she could get.

And then some.

Which was why he was extra quiet when he put Sophia down on the sticky floor, before he turned around and reached up to open the small cabinet door over the fridge. He was looking for the big box of cheese and crackers he knew was hidden up there.

It only took a second of digging behind the plastic plates before he found them.

But he'd heard Lori say to Jacquie just last week, how she was tucking them off for a rainy day. And she meant that in a literal way, 'cuz a rainy day meant the ladies couldn't cook outside. But he figured that out of a box of twenty, him taking two little packages wasn't goin' to hurt nothing. If need be, to keep things mostly square, he'd just skip his portion on whatever day they were handed out for lunch. Because these days it was more important than ever to not take more than your share of what was coming.

It was another rule of the middle path.

In the now though, he passed one package over to Sophia, and while the two of them stood there by the door, with her still stifling those yawns, she munched down about half of her package of six cracker sandwiches, while he crunched down all of his in the same amount of time. Then they washed the last of those crumbs down with the warm water from his canteen. It was the first time he'd ever shared his canteen with anyone besides Merle.

He made sure to wipe it down real good before he handed it off to Sophia.

It was funny though, because she didn't have no experience drinking out of a container like that, so when she first tipped it back, she ended up dribbling water down her chin and up her nose. That's when she pulled it away to smother a giggle, and he had to put his hand up to hide his smile. From there he just gave her a good natured eye roll as he took it back and held it for her, while she got her fill of drink.

Once she flapped her hand though, he pulled it away, and while she was wiping the back of her arm across her mouth and chin to get the excess drops, he took one last small swig himself . . . he was saving the rest for Carol when she woke up . . . and then put the cap back on again.

After that, he scooped up their note and Sophia's remaining crackers, and tucked them into his pocket. Then he made a gesture to the little girl with the droopy eyelids, and she turned and cut through to the bedroom.

He was right behind her.

And once she'd climbed up onto her new bunk, she curled up on her side and gave him a sleepy smile. His eyes crinkled.

"Sleep well, angel," he whispered with a gentle pat of her arm. Then he reached down, and tugged her sneakers off, before he pulled the sheet up, and over her shoulders. After that he put those small shoes down on the floor, and then his bow and quiver down next to them.

He straightened up, and turned around to check Carol.

As he'd expected though, she was still sound asleep. There was a bit of drool on the corner of her mouth, but he just wiped that away with his thumb. And after he stood there for a few seconds listening to her breathing, he was at least happy to note how, even though it was still raspy, it sounded a LOT less strained than it had the night before. Twelve hours ago almost every breath she'd taken had been a pained effort. And he knew that, because God help him, but he'd stayed awake listening to her lungs rattling, all while he'd just laid there with her cuddled against him, imagining all the things he was going to do to her husband for what he'd done to her.

That had been time well spent.

And it was clear the extra rest that she'd had today, had been time well spent too. It had definitely done her body good.

It was starting to mend up.

So after he'd fixed her blanket again, he let out a heavy sigh and came back to his feet. Then for a second he looked back and forth between these two who he'd pledged himself to keep safe.

All he wanted to do was cuddle 'em both up.

That wasn't an option at the moment though. Not with either of them. So he indulged this new sentimental ("pussified," Merle would say) part of himself, by leaning over to pick up Carol's backpack, and moving it up to brace against the outer wall of the RV. Then he lowered himself down, and curled up on the floor in between the two bunks. Her pack was what he tucked under his head for a pillow. Then he just lay there listening to the two of them breathing.

It wasn't even a minute before he passed out himself.

When his eyes popped open again, the sun was still out, but the shadows cutting over his body were long. And feeling a warmth on his side, when he turned his head, he found that at some point while he'd been sleepin', Sophia had pulled her pillow and blanket down from the mattress, to curl up between his body and her mama's bunk.

At present she was sound asleep tucked in between the two.

For a second he just looked at her, feeling his expression softening at how small she seemed there. Of course she was small . . . that was the whole problem in trying to keep her safe. It wasn't a point worth thinkin' on though, 'cuz things were as they were, and wanting them to be something else, would just drive him to a state of worry that would serve no purpose. So instead he blinked and looked away from that little body, to instead focus in on the sounds coming in around them, and through the open windows. He could hear the faint murmurs of people talking, and the clinks of metal silverware hittin' plastic dishes. That's when he realized it was already dinner time.

Which meant he'd slept most of the afternoon.

But given how he'd only slept a couple hours last night, that extra sleep today wouldn't have been such a bad thing if he hadn't forgotten to dress that damn squirrel and pass it off to the ladies for dinner. He winced.

Idiot.

Oh well, he thought with a half a yawn, and roll of his eyes, he could just put it on a spit and cook it up before he went to bed. Then whoever was on meals tomorrow, could do something with it for lunch. Even with the humidity, as long as he didn't leave it raw overnight, it'd still be good by then.

It wouldn't make nobody sick anyway.

And he was just thinking about getting up to go start guttin' that little sucker, when he suddenly got the sense like he was being watched. So he slowly brought his eyes up from where he was starin' at the half folded divider screen, to find he wasn't the only one awake . . . Carol was too. And at the moment, she was leaning over the bunk and looking down at him.

She was giving him a sleepy smile.

"You got room for one more down there?" she whispered. And his eyes crinkled as he felt a spot of warmth spreading through his chest. Because he was just real happy to be able to talk to her again.

Not to mention her color was a lot better now too.

"I'll come up," he whispered back while starting to slide backwards away from Sophia, "the floor's too hard for you."

So he shifted back another inch to keep from disturbing Sophia, before he pushed himself to his feet. Then after he gave a little twist to get the kink out of his lower back, he VERY carefully, stepped over the little folded up body, so he could get his knee onto the end of Carol's bunk.

It was a tight fight, but with a little shimmying, he was able to climb in behind her, with his back tight against the wall, and her body curled up against his front. His arm was wrapped loose around her shoulders, and her arm was slung over his waist with her head resting on his chest. And she was so warm and so soft, and he was just so happy to be able to hold her like that, for a moment he just closed his eyes and tried to commit it all to his memory.

"Your lungs sound a lot better," he murmured after a few seconds of the quiet. And as his lashes fluttered open again, he felt Carol rub her cheek on his shirt.

"Yeah actually," she whispered back, "they don't hurt as much now. I mean," she huffed a bit, "the rest of me still aches something awful, but that sharp stabbing pain I had in my side, isn't so sharp anymore. It's more just fallen in as one of the dull aches. But overall I don't feel as bad as I did this morning." She sniffed, "I think part of the problem then was probably just pure exhaustion from almost two days of minimal sleep. But God," she lifted her head to look towards the shadows coming through the windows, "seriously, how long did I sleep today?"

"Hmm," his nose wrinkled, "I'd say probably a good seven to eight hours straight. Because I think I passed out at least four hours ago, and I didn't think I'd sleep near that long."

Then there was a pause where they were both quiet for a second before Carol tapped his chest with her fist.

"You know," she murmured sadly, "I feel so guilty about passing out on Sophia after everything that happened," her hand stilled, "did Lori watch her? Or did she just stay in here?"

"Actually uh no," Daryl cleared his throat, "she went out. And I watched her, not Lori. Seeing as we were all together when you fell asleep, I didn't want to hand her off to anyone else, 'cuz uh," he swallowed, "well, it just wouldn't of been right to say I was gonna take responsibility here with you two, and then do something like that."

Feeling a warmth spread through her chest at the sweet nervousness of both Daryl's tone, and for hearing what he had done that day, Carol pushed herself up enough so that she could catch his eyes. His nervousness was obvious there too . . . like he was worried that she might be upset with him or something.

Silly man.

"I think it's wonderful you wanted to step in to take care of her," she murmured with a soft, watery, smile that she could see made him feel better, "it means the world to me, so thank you. And it also makes me feel a lot better just to know that she was with you, because that means I know she was safe all day. But God," her head shook a bit as she brought it back down to his chest and sniffled, "I really didn't mean to just drop off like that at all. If I'd realized my body was that close to shutting down, I would have told Sophia she should stay here in the back with me, and do her puzzles. Though," Carol continued on with a bite of her lip, "saying that out loud now, it seems more like I would have been putting her in time out or something."

"Hmm," Daryl hummed back with a tap of his fingertips on her shoulder, "yeah, that wouldn't of been too much fun for her, I don't think. But things worked out well enough. We went to the quarry like she wanted, and she did a little wading, and then we had a talk about some stuff which I'll tell you about later, and then we went for a short walk, and she was with me when I bagged a squirrel just over the tree line."

"You guys caught a squirrel?" Carol repeated back in surprise.

And he gave a sharp nod, before adding on quickly, "I promise she was safe though. We were right outside of camp, and I had her tied on my belt."

Carol's expression softened at that.

"Daryl," she patted his stomach, "not for one second was I thinking that you would have brought her anywhere she wouldn't have been as safe as you could keep her. I didn't mean to imply that at all. Even yesterday I probably would have said that I'd feel she was better off with you than anyone else in camp. But after what you did for us this morning, I honestly can't imagine _ever_ trusting her with anyone the way I trust her with you. Really," she leaned back to give him a little smile, "I was just surprised you caught the squirrel, period. Because you've been saying how the game's been so scarce around the camp, and that's why you have to be out so long every day, and then you caught a meal right inside the tree line," her eyes crinkled, "maybe Sophia's a good luck charm."

"Yeah," he clicked his tongue as his eyes bounced up to the ceiling for a moment, "maybe. Though as a rule," he looked back to Carol, "I don't want to be takin' her out with me on the regular, until she's a little older, and I've taught her how to use all the weapons we got, so she can take care of herself if something happened to me."

"Nothing's going to happen to you," Carol cut back tightly, as her lighter tone disappeared. And knowing he'd upset her, and hating that he had, Daryl tipped his head down to rest against hers. Because what he'd said was true.

Even if she didn't want to hear it.

"We need to think new world now, Peach," he let out on a sigh, "and in the new world shit goes seriously wrong all the time. And I wouldn't be doin' either of you any favors, if I were to take y'all out alone anywhere with just me, unless I was sure you could fight if you needed to."

For a moment Carol was quiet, but then she swallowed down, hard, and brought her hand up to press against his heart.

She gave it a gentle pat.

"I see your point," she answered softly, "and as soon as I have a little more movement in me, I'll be ready for you to start showing me what to do when the time comes."

Because he was right, the time would come when it would all go even more wrong again, and the next time it happened, she needed to be ready for it. She wasn't going to go forward in this new world with any part of that scared, pathetic woman she'd been in the last one. No, she was going to make up for her past mistakes . . . and her failures . . . if it was the last thing she ever did. And that's what Daryl would do for her and Sophia. He'd teach them how to fight, and how to use the knives safely . . . and someday the guns too. And knowing how to use those things to take care of themselves, would give her and her daughter the confidence and strength they'd been lacking all these years. Daryl could give that to them though.

Because he would give them the tools to stay alive.

And in turn she'd look after him, and take care of him, in all the ways he deserved to have a woman who could be devoted to him that way. Even now he was so gentle and sweet in how he protected her and Sophia, that she knew it wouldn't take long for her to really fall for him. Right now they were already attached, but the two of them would be a good fit for each other, long term.

She was sure of it.

And though she was afraid that he was going to say he had to get up and go do something important, because Daryl was always off doing something important, for some reason, even though the sun was still out, he just stayed there curled up with her, stroking his thumb along the curve of her wrist, like there was nowhere else in the world he needed to be.

It was after maybe two or three more minutes though of happily laying there with him like that, when Carol let out a slow, slightly wheezy, sigh. Because 'better' breathing, didn't necessarily mean, 'good' breathing.

At least not yet.

"I think I just decided what I want to call you," she whispered. "I mean," her lip quirked up, "besides Pookie, which is only to be used on special, private, occasions."

Feeling the corner of his mouth twitch, Daryl's gaze shifted down to catch Carol's . . . she was already staring up at him.

"So what's the other one goin' to be?" He asked with a hint of amusement. And he saw her eyes crinkle.

"Bear."

His eyebrow inched up in surprise.

"Yeah?"

And she nodded.

"Yeah, I think it's kind of perfect. Bears are strong and they're wild, but also," she bit her lip, "they're fierce with how they protect their cubs. And that's you, and what you've done for us. Then of course there are teddy bears," her eyes crinkled, "they're soft and cuddly. And that's you too. That's why I like it for you, because I think it covers all the different aspects of your personality really well."

Then she patted his chest as she looked up hopefully.

"So is it okay with you if I call you bear?"

"Um, yeah," he started chewing on his lip while giving her a slow nod back, "yeah, I'd be all right with that."

It was actually real nice the way she'd laid it out. Because the only special nickname he'd ever had before from a woman, had been from Sandy. She'd called him pumpkin, 'cuz when they'd been together his hair had been lighter back then from the sun, so it was kind of a gingery color. So yeah, she called him pumpkin because of his hair. Of course she meant it like a sweet thing, but still, it wasn't near the same as the reasoning Carol had given for wanting to call him bear.

That had made him feel good.

Which was probably how, even though he was trying to go slow with her, he found himself tipping his head down to kiss her temple like he had the night before. Then he tapped his fingertips on her shoulder as he whispered, "you ready to go out and get some dinner now?"

That's when he felt her let out a raspy sigh against his chest, and then, "I don't really feel like having to sit down again with everyone today. There was too much staring this morning."

"Hmm," he hummed, "yeah, I had some of that myself just walking around camp, but," he clicked his tongue, "you gotta eat a proper meal, Peach, because you already missed lunch and you need to keep up your energy. So I'll go out and get plates for all three of us, and we'll just eat in here. I'll um," his nose scrunched, "well, I'll just say you're still restin', and that should be fine. I don't think anybody but Lori would poke more than that."

"All right," Carol answered with a faint rub of her cheek on his chest, "that works, thanks. And if Lori does ask, just tell her I said I was feeling a little better, and that I'll see her at breakfast."

Daryl let out his own sigh then as he muttered back, "yep, okay," before he started to shift around so he could get up. Though as he came to his feet, Carol reached out to take his hand again, murmuring that she needed to pee. So he helped her, so she could get to her own feet without stepping on Sophia. Then with his arm around her waist, he walked her out to the hall so she could go in to use the bathroom.

As a rule, they didn't use the RV bathroom very often because the honey pot needed to be emptied out or the waste would bake in the sun. But obviously if anybody had to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night and they just couldn't hold it 'til dawn, it was a hell of a lot safer to go in and take a piss in the RV toilet, than it was to wander out into the trees. That was especially the case for the ladies, who had a lot more of a production involved with having to drop their pants and cop a squat, than the guys who just needed to find a tree and yank down their zipper. Hell, Merle didn't even bother looking for a tree if it was after dark. He'd just stand in the middle of the field and whip it out like he was a God damn lawn sprinkler. And when Daryl tried to point out one night that there were little girls in the camp that he didn't need to be exposin' himself to, Merle just growled that there weren't no little girls out wandering after dark these days unless they were already dead.

Then he told him to shut the fuck up and mind his own business.

It was the memory rolling around Daryl's head as he left Carol still in the bathroom, and walked towards the screen door alone. Because he'd just picked up on his brother's voice coming in from the outside. He was on some kind of rant about something, so Daryl paused to listen for a second.

That's when he realized that Merle was talking about Ed. He was reading somebody the riot act about offering to bring him down some food and water. Just the thought of that happening set Daryl's own blood boiling, and he busted out that screen door like a bull who had just hit the gate.

He ran down to the group settled in with their dinners, and he jumped right into the fray, telling those assholes in no uncertain terms that if he found out anybody had slipped even a cup of water to that bastard, that would be the end of him huntin' for the group or goin' on any more runs. That as soon as Carol was well enough to move, he'd take her and Sophia, and he and Merle would setup their own camp further down the hill.

They rest of them could just fend for themselves and see how they did.

Lori jumped up then and tried to calm him down, promising that nobody had brought Ed any food or water. That somebody had just asked the question about whether anyone was going to. Of course when Daryl asked who the hell that asshole was, nobody answered him but Merle, who rolled his eyes and pointed his middle finger across the fire. It only took Daryl a second to spot who he was gesturing to.

Jim.

He was waaaay too intent on picking at the roll in his hand.

So Daryl walked over, and tipped his head down to catch the other man's eyes.

"If I find out you've done anything to help that bastard live even a minute longer than he should have," he spit out, "you're gonna wish we never met, is that clear?"

Jim's eyes snapped up then, and though there was fear in them . . . there was a bit of defiance too.

Like somehow he was on the side of right.

"I just asked if we were letting a man starve to death, is all," he ground out, "there isn't any need to be so pissy about it."

That was the last thing he said before Daryl punched him square in the jaw.

And as Jim's chair flipped backwards, and he tumbled out into the dirt with his plate flying one way, and the food flying the other, everybody else just froze.

Then Daryl walked over and looked down again . . . that time there was nothing but fear in those dark eyes. And there was pain there too when he brought his hand up to touch his jaw.

It wasn't broke but he'd got him good.

For a second nobody said nothing. Even Merle, who always enjoyed a good ruckus, and often started one just for his own amusement, was just sitting back watchin' the show. And though everything in Daryl wanted to kick the shit out of this asshole on the ground, he knew he couldn't do that.

Not just for asking a question.

The problem was though, a person who would ask a question like that, was basically a person comin' down on the side of a monster. Especially when you put that together with how judgey he'd been to Carol that morning about wishing Ed would get eaten by the birds before he was dead. Which made Daryl wonder REAL hard just what kind of a husband and father ol' Jim had been back before his family got eaten by the walkers.

Were he and Ed brothers under the skin?

Because it was definitely startin' to seriously come off like that. Really every warning bell Daryl had, was goin' off then.

This asshole just wasn't right.

So he stooped down, and leaned in real close.

"I think I know what you are," he hissed, "so don't think I won't do the same to you that I did to him."

When Jim's eyes widened in shock, Daryl continued on softly.

"If I catch you anywhere near Carol or Sophia," he tapped his fingers on his knife, "or if I hear about you bein' caught alone with any of the other kids or ladies," he nodded slowly, "that's the end of you, motherfucker. So you keep your distance from all of 'em if you know what's good for you."

And with that . . . Daryl slowly came back up to his feet. Then he turned around, and looked over the faces of the people in the camp. There was a lot of fear and wariness looking back up at him.

Though there was a few who were clearly reading things a little different.

Like Lori, her expression was just one of worry, and Andrea and Dale seemed confused . . . then there was Shane. That cop was just staring down at Jim still laying in the dirt, and Daryl was pretty sure he was starting to put the same puzzle pieces together that Daryl himself just had. Because when those cop eyes snapped up . . . and they locked onto his . . . Shane stared straight into him.

So Daryl tipped his head.

That seemed to be enough confirmation for a man Daryl had nearly nothin' else in common with aside from this shared hatred of rapin' scumbags, that he wasn't losing his fucking mind. Because Shane's jaw clenched as he put his hand on Carl's shoulder.

Then he leaned over and whispered in Lori's ear.

Whatever thought he shared with her, was very likely the one that the two of them had just come to. Because her eyes suddenly widened in horror, before she did the same thing her boyfriend had just done . . . snapped her attention up to Daryl.

That time he didn't do nothin' but stare back.

The two of them had their eyes locked for maybe ten seconds, before she gave him a slow nod. Then she stood up, took two steps out, and turned around to look at the others. Daryl had no idea what she gonna do then.

But what she did do, kind of shocked the shit out of him.

"Daryl was right to do what he just did," she declared loudly, making sure to catch everyone's eyes as she slowly turned one way, and then the other, to look around to the full group, "because Jim was out of line this morning when he was shooting Carol dirty looks for speaking her mind about that monster who attacked her and her daughter. Then he was out of line again tonight when he posed the idea of _wasting_ ," she spit out the word, "our food and water on a creature like Ed. And then he _crossed_ the line completely," she spun around and shot her words right to the man on the ground who was just starting to push himself up, "when he copped an attitude with Daryl who had rightly taken exception for Jim's apparently," she made air quotes, "'forgiving,' attitude about the type of men who beat their wives and children before they try to rape them in the night. So," she turned back to the others who were now staring up at her with what Daryl could only say was a bit of unbelievin' awe, "you all either need to get in line here, and come down on the side of what's right, or you can go off with Jim, who seems to believe that these kinds of violations are somehow a grey area where people are entitled to have their own differing opinions. News flash, Jim," she turned back to look him square in the eye, "there is no grey area," her voice faded, "it's just fucking wrong."

When she was done speaking, there was just a split second of stunned silence before Merle, (being the asshole he was), burst out in applause.

"Wa hooh!" He hooted with an exaggerated clap of his hands, "check out the queen bee, laying down the law on the peasants!" Then he shot her a black power salute, "right on woman!"

Lori just rolled her eyes, as she let out on a sigh, "shut up, Merle," as she walked back over to her seat. And the asshole of course made a mock gesture of pain in his heart as he called back, "can't even give a woman a compliment these days!"

But then he seemed to notice what Daryl had just seen . . . that Jim was startin' to come to his feet. And Merle's attention snapped in that direction as he immediately sobered up.

"You, Question Man," he called with a noticeable hardening of his tone . . . because very little escaped his brother's shrewd eye either, "I think it's time you took your leave from the supper party." His eyes narrowed then as his voice dropped to a dangerous level, "you've had your fill."

Anyone outside of a damn fool would have known from that tone, that he was headin' for a full beat down if he didn't get his ass gone, and right quick. But still, for a moment Jim just stood there, with one hand on his jaw, and the other on his hip, staring coolly over at the group. But then he seemed to realize there weren't no allies to be found for his point of view . . . the pro _RAPE_ point of view, that is, as far as Daryl saw it in black and white . . . so his jaw twitched, just once, before he turned and stalked off.

He was still holding his face.

And Daryl made sure that jackass was way off into the field, and heading in the direction of his tent, before he finally turned back to Shane.

"I don't want to be handin' off my shift to him anymore," he said quietly, though with a firm shake of his head, "it ain't gonna end well." And Shane's nose twitched as he gave a slow nod.

"Yeah, I can see that train wreck coming too. Uh," he turned then to look over at the other men, sitting on the other side of the fire, "Glenn, or T, do you want to switch, and take the ten to midnight?"

T-Dog tipped his head to Glenn.

"You take it, man," he answered with a firm nod, "you've got the worst shift now getting up in the dead of night. I'm fine sticking with the four a.m." He shrugged, "I always got up early anyway."

Daryl could see how Glenn looked to be havin' a bit of whiplash with everything happening so quick, but after he'd blinked twice, he gave a sharp nod.

"Uh yeah," he cleared his throat as his eyes snapped over to Shane's, "yeah, okay, I'll take the ten, but um," his nose wrinkled, "do I have to tell Jim about the switch?"

"Naw man," Shane snorted, "I wouldn't do that to you. I'll tell him after dinner. To be honest though, I don't know how much we should be trusting him now to watch our backs. The way he's acting about Ed, uh," he shot a look over his shoulder, and off to the field, "well, it makes me uneasy. But," he looked back over to Glenn, "we do need the shifts covered and without him, we're kind of out of bodies."

"I could take the two am shift," Andrea cut in then, as she leaned forward in her chair, "I mean, I know I'm not the best shot, but with the scope on the rifle, that should compensate, right?"

For a moment nobody said anything, probably because nobody wanted to be the first one to say, "fuck no, you can't shoot for SHIT, lady!" But then Amy cut in too, with, "I'll get up with her. Because if you're all thinking now what I think you are about Jim, then it probably is wiser that we stick together."

That's when Daryl started to see that maybe those sisters doing a tag team wasn't such a bad idea. Because it wasn't like either of them needed to be a damn marksman to fire off a shot to warn folks there was trouble.

They just needed to be able to pull the trigger is all.

So before Shane, or any of the other men, could veto the idea of two ladies holdin' a watch by themselves, Daryl decided to back them up. Because even if Andrea was a pain in the ass, she still deserved the chance to pull her weight if she wanted to. Though Daryl would be damned if he thought it would be good for her and Amy to be separatin' in the dead of night.

That shit would be not be safe at all.

"I think that'd work all right if the two of 'em went up together," he said then with a nod in Shane's direction. "I mean," he shrugged, "the roof's the safest spot in camp, and they can see as well as any of us. Twice as well really if there are two of them. And if any walkers stumble in, all Andrea has to do is take the shot. Even if she misses," his eyes bounced over to Dale's, "that one there will be up on the roof before she'd have the chance to aim a second time. Ain't that right old man?"

"Yeah," Dale nodded, "right." Then he looked over to Shane. "I agree with Daryl. I think they can handle it." Then his brow darkened. "Because I also have some concerns about how much we should trust Jim right now. I don't know what his," he waved his hand, "motivation is, for this strange sympathy he has for Ed, given what we know that he's done, but anyone who keeps pushing back the way he's been for people to see the other side of things, and he did make some odd comments this afternoon too, makes me uncomfortable."

"All right, then," Shane said with a shrug over to Andrea and Amy, "I guess it's settled. If you two want to take the two am slot, it's yours. And if you get into trouble," he leaned over to pick up his plate off the ground again, "just holler."

So with the shift switching all settled . . . and Andrea looking pleased as punch that she was getting to do something besides the laundry . . . Daryl walked over to straighten up the chair that Jim had been sitting in, because it was his fault actually that it was upside down now. But while he was doin' that . . . and Jacqui hopped up to gather the plate and silverware that had fallen too . . . he called over to Lori, asking if she could put together three dinners for him to take inside, 'cuz Carol was still resting but he didn't want her eating alone. Of course he got "a yep, yep, right away," from her as she bounced out of the lawn chair she was sitting in. Then she hurried over to the log table and picked up the last three empty plates that were sitting there stacked up.

He hadn't even noticed they were waitin' on them.

And with Amy's help, it only took a minute for those two to pile up a portion for each plate, of another one of those Hamburger Helper meals out of the skillet sittin' on the edge of the fire pit. Though this Helper meal didn't have no chicken base like the last one. Lori said it actually had chunks of rabbit meat in it. Which was kind of surprising to Daryl, given how he hadn't brought back no damn rabbits that day.

Just one still uncooked squirrel.

But then Merle piped up with a saucy whistle and a wave of his dirty fork, that he'd gone hunting while, quote, "you was taking that afternoon siesta. Ole, baby bro!"

Daryl just rolled his eyes. Because for all the damn days Merle had lounged in his bedroll while Daryl got up at the ass crack of dawn to go looking for game, his brother owed him a meal or ten. So he just gave his thanks to the ladies for cookin' the food, rather than to Merle for bringin' any of it in. And when he started to gather up the full plates to bring inside, Lori insisted on helping, just to make sure they could have the drinks too. And when he began to open his mouth to say he'd just make two trips, she leaned up to whisper in his ear that she'd leave everything on the table and go.

There was nothing to worry about.

He gave her a sharp nod then for understandin' . . . without him having to say it flat out . . . how Carol didn't want to be seeing nobody else right now. It was funny, but these folks weren't gettin' on his nerves so much tonight. Of course his brother was still an ass, but that was as it always was. But the others, with Ed dying a slow death, and Jim off, well, maybe diddling himself was Daryl's guess, the rest of them still hanging about weren't so bad. Not that he wanted to be "friends" or any such nonsense, but if Jim would just stay away, and he and Andrea could (on the general) keep from clashing swords, then the group might actually become tolerable.

Not that all that mattered right now.

No, as he and Lori brought those plates across the yard and inside the RV, all that mattered was gettin' some food into Carol so she'd keep her strength up for healin'. And of course to keep that next pill she'd be taking from making her belly hurt. Because most folks couldn't take that shit as a regular thing, without food too.

It'd make you gut sick.

But once the full plates of Helper Meal and tiny Bisquick rolls, had been laid out on the table, alongside the glasses of weak, pink, lemonade . . . Glenn had come across a canister of Country Time the ladies were tryin' to make last . . . Lori took her leave of him with a pat on the back. And once she stepped out the door, and the screen fell shut again, he turned and walked down the short hallway, to where he could hear Carol and Sophia now whisperin' behind the closed divider.

"Come on Peach, angel," he called out softly, with a faint rap on the thin vinyl.

"Time to eat."

/*/*/*/*/*

Daryl raised his arm up, and pointed over Glenn's right shoulder.

"Keep an eye on the southeast corner of the field," he whispered to the kid who was just taking on the first of his new ten pm walker shifts, "over by the shower area, I saw somethin' moving in the trees about a half ago. Might've of just been a deer, but the rustling seemed a little high up for that so I ain't positive."

Glenn turned then and lifted the Remington up to peer through the scope. After he gave it a small adjustment for his own eyes, he gave a slow nod.

"Okay," he murmured back, still staring through the lens, "I don't see anything moving there now, but I'll keep a close watch."

"Well," Daryl answered softly, as he started to slowly back up across the roof, "if nothin' turns up tonight, I'm gonna check for tracks over there in the morning. It was definitely something, but I'm hoping it was just an animal."

"Yeah," Glenn huffed, "me too, man." Then he gave a wave over his shoulder.

"G'night."

Daryl just grunted to that. Because he wasn't in the habit of doing that sort of social exchange with folks. All right, he'd given Carol and Sophia a proper, "good night" when he'd put them in bed a couple hours ago just before he'd come up on the roof. But they were about it for folks he wanted to be gettin' that kind of close with.

It just wasn't something he did.

Though if this was gonna be like a 'nightly thing' or something with Glenn, as he pushed his bow back on his shoulder and moved to put his boot onto the top run of the ladder, Daryl knew he was probably gonna have to either live with it, or say something.

Like cut that shit out.

Either way, as he started moving down the ladder, he didn't much care how it got handled just so long as the kid didn't the wrong idea about them being close or nothing.

Stuff like that needed to be nipped in the bud.

That was Daryl's final thought on that point, as he hopped off the last of the metal rungs, and landed down into the dirt. Then when he turned the corner to cut around under the awning at the front of the trailer, to his GENUINE surprise, he found that Carol was standing there not three feet away, leaning against the side of the RV. The surprise was in how he hadn't even heard the door opening and closing. But then he realized that she'd probably come out just when she'd heard Glenn going up.

One sound would have covered over the other.

So after he'd pushed his bow back on his shoulder, he walked over to where she was still leaning back against the fiberglass hull. Even in the shadows under the canvas, there was enough light coming in from the moon and stars, that he could see how she was watching him walk over.

"Hey," he whispered with a worried brow, "what are you doing up so late, baby?" His voice dropped to just a murmur when stopped in front of her, "is something hurting?"

For a second she just looked up at him, and though the light was too dim to see her eyes, that's when he reached out to put his hand on her hip. He did that to make sure she was steady on her feet. Because once again all he was picturing were those bruises coverin' over most of her body, and how in her condition, she still didn't have any business being up and moving around out on her own yet.

Most especially at night.

And it didn't settle his worries none, when instead of answering him direct about whether she was in pain, she just shook her head once, before she leaned forward to rest her cheek on his chest. It wasn't until she'd snuggled in good, and he'd tipped his head down to rest against hers, that she finally spoke.

Though the words came out on a heavy sigh.

"I had a bad dream, and I needed to see you."

"Hmm," he hummed, while gently running his hand down her back, "was the dream about Ed?"

Given her physical state, that's what he was expecting, but then she shook her head again.

"No, not him," Carol murmured against Daryl's shirt, "it was about you. I dreamed you went into the woods one morning to go hunting, and you came out that night as a walker."

She looked up at him then with a grim twist of her lips. Even in the shadows somehow she managed to catch his eyes.

"You don't ever do that, okay?"

"I won't," he shook his head seriously, "I promise, I won't."

That answer seemed to be enough for her, because she dropped her head back down again.

"As long as you promise," she murmured, "then okay."

There wasn't anything else he could think to say on that point, so he just her hip a little pat. Because really, with all the walkers he'd run into on his hunting trips, he'd already given the exact situation she'd dreamed about, a lot of thought. So what he'd told her wasn't just to make her feel better, 'cuz he'd already decided probably the second week into this new hell, that if he ever got bit when he was out alone, he'd off himself long before anybody else would have to be put to the bother. Even if he lost all his weapons, he could still beat his head into a rock or a tree just to be sure he didn't turn, and hurt anyone else. Though he didn't really think going into the details there was necessarily going to be helpful for Carol's peace of mind. So instead he just left it at the, "I won't."

But after another moment of holding the woman in his arms, he finally felt her body relax some. So he whispered against her ear.

"Dream fadin'?"

Carol bit down on the corner of her lip . . . there was a still a faint copper taste there from last night's beating.

"Yeah," she whispered after a split second pause as she tipped her head back to give Daryl a sad smile, "I just needed the hug, I guess."

"Well," he nodded slowly, "those are available on the regular now, whenever you do need 'em."

Her eyes crinkled.

"Trust me," she huffed, "I'll be collecting them on the regular too." Then she patted his chest.

"Can we go sit by the fire for a minute?"

There really wasn't much left in the way of flames, but the coals did throw off a little warmth. More important than that though, at least by the fire pit they were under the leaves, so they'd have some privacy from Glenn up there on the roof with his scoped rifle, which could see everything in his line of sight like they were standing right next to him. So after Daryl murmured back, "yeah, we can sit for a couple minutes, I guess," he slipped his arm around her waist, and before she knew it, he'd shifted around and scooped her up and into his arms.

"I could've walked it," she huffed, when she found herself dangling three feet off the ground.

But he just shook his head.

"Naw," he let out on a sigh even as he was pulling her a little closer to his chest, "you're already banged up enough as is, Peach, and there's nobody around, so you just let me do this, okay? Because I don't you want you tripping on nothin' in the dark."

It was hard to argue with logic like that, because Carol knew it was true . . . a trip and fall right then would be the worst thing for her. Really, whatever healing her body had done with the all the rest she'd gotten that day, would (at best) be set back to zero again.

At worst she could hobble herself completely.

So rather than making a counterpoint . . . because she had none . . . she just slipped her arm around Daryl's neck, and tipped her head down onto his shoulder.

From there, he carried her down the small incline and over to sit down on the log seat by the fire pit next to the trees. Of course he didn't let her go even then. He just kept her in his lap, with his arm around her waist, as he twisted to slide his bow off his shoulder.

Once he was untangled from that, he gave her belly a gentle rub.

"Is it okay uh, sittin' together like this?"

Hearing the nervousness in his voice . . . he was so sexy confident in so many areas and yet so endearingly unsure of himself in so many others . . . Carol pressed a kiss to his cheek, while murmuring, "of course, Pookie," right before she tucked her head down into the crook of his neck.

That seemed to make him feel better. And for a few minutes they were both quiet and still, just watching the orange glow of the dying embers. Then a thought came to her, so she slid her hand up to pat his chest.

"Tell me something about your life before."

Carol's words came out as barely a whisper, but still, Daryl blinked at them in surprise. Because nobody had ever asked him about his life before, even when they were _in_ the before.

Nobody had ever cared to know.

So his jaw twisted just once, right before he cleared his throat.

"Well, uh, what did you want to know?"

And she bit her lip.

"I don't know," she shrugged, "just something basic I guess. Like uh," her nose wrinkled, "where did you grow up?"

"Uh," he sighed, "yeah, that would be in the back country. You probably guessed that much though, but it was a little town right on the edge of the Chattahoochee called Two Mills, 'cuz well," he sniffed, "we had two mills in the town and people there didn't have a whole lot of imagination."

Both hearin', and feelin', Carol's soft chuckle against his neck at what he'd just said, made Daryl's lip quirk up. Because it felt good to make her laugh.

It was a real nice sound.

"How 'bout you?" He asked then, with a tap of his fingertips on her elbow, "where'd you grow up?"

"Louisville," she answered with a slight clearing of her throat to sober up, "born and raised."

"No shit," he huffed, "never been with a Kentucky girl. Hmm," he looked down at her with curious eyebrow, "you don't have six toes or nothin' do ya?"

And she let out another small, muffled chuckle, as she rubbed her cheek on his shirt.

"You know, I don't think anybody else would believe me if I told them you were funny."

"Pfft," Daryl snorted dismissively, "don't know what's so funny about six toes. Seems more to me like you're just avoidin' the question."

Feeling Carol's shoulders start to shake with real laughter then, Daryl dipped his head down to hide his own smile, because again, that laugh made him feel good. Then she lifted her head up, and gave him a grin.

"Did you want to do a toe check before bed?"

"If we're doing checks before bed, lady," he shot back with a dry snort, "I'm startin' with something a hell of a lot better than your toes."

Again she let out a fresh giggle, that time right before she dropped her head back to his chest. And after he'd wrapped his other arm around her shoulders, he tucked his head down to cuddle her in close.

After a moment, she whispered against his throat.

"You make me feel so happy, it almost seems wrong."

His brow twitched.

"How's it wrong?" he murmured back with a hint of concern. And he felt her let out a sigh.

"Because everything else is wrong," she whispered with a faint crackle in her voice, "everything. The whole world's wrong." She tipped her head back to give him a wry smile, "so how did we find something that was right?"

For a moment Daryl just looked down at her with a scrunch in his brow, because he was honest to God thinkin' about whether maybe there was a real answer to that question. Then he shrugged.

"Maybe we earned it," he said softly.

"Earned it?" She repeated back with her own scrunched brow. And he nodded.

"Yeah, well," his jaw twitched, "I'd venture to say we paid more dues in the old world, than anyone else here. So maybe they all got their chance at findin' something like this before," he gave her a slow nod, "and we get our chance at it now."

It'd be nice if things worked like that. If all that suffering he'd had under his daddy, and Carol and Sophia had had under Ed, really led to them gettin' this time to be together.

For however long they could stay alive.

And he could see in how in the light of the flames, Carol's eyes had a faint shine on them now, that she liked that idea too. That there was maybe some thread of redemption to it all. Still, he didn't want everything to be quite so heavy just before he brought her back to bed. So his lips twitched just a bit right before he leaned over and wrapped her up again.

"But if it makes you feel better about us havin' something good," he whispered into her ear, "don't forget, we could still get eaten by a walker at any time."

And again, he heard her let out a chuckle against his throat.

"Yeah, thanks," she snorted, "that makes me feel _great!_ "

"Good," he let out on a slow sigh, "because that's what I'm here for, Peach." His voice faded off a bit. "At least that's what I want to be here for . . . as long as I can be."

It was a bit more of a melancholy way to end that thought than he'd planned, but this wasn't a world where it was easy, or wise, to forget the dangers they now lived with. And just 'cuz they'd bumped into each other in all this dark, it didn't mean their expiration dates weren't still coming up. If anything, having people to care about, just gave you things to lose. But as he felt Carol snuggled there on his lap, Daryl knew he was already too far gone to have any real cares with the fallout that could come later. Because he'd take whatever risks there were, if got to have this for even a little while. Hell, just this cuddling up by the fire with her, was already more than he'd ever had before.

He'd do just about anything to keep from losing it.

And he was just about to tell Carol how it was time to get up so he could get her back to bed, when out of the dark, he suddenly heard a branch snap. It was coming from the trees.

Just behind them.

His blood pretty much froze then in his veins, but his actual body was moving so fast, SO fuckin' fast, he nearly got whiplash. Because he was shoving Carol off the log to the left, and snatching his bow up from the right.

And he was already letting the bolt fly even while he was still spinnin' around on the seat.

Fucker was too close though, and he'd already started coming down on top of him. Which meant the arrow tip didn't go into the skull like it should have, it just skimmed over the slippery skin of the forehead and bounced back into the scrub. And with that rotted gas bag droppin' like a dead weight . . . no fucking joke there . . . all Daryl could think, while he was shoving his bow up to protect his body, was but one thought.

FUCK!

And even as those slimy jaws started snapping only maybe two inches above his nose, he could hear Glenn yelling from the roof, "I CAN'T GET THE SHOT! I CAN'T GET IT! IT'S TOO CLOSE!"

Knowing then he had only one option . . . let it come down another inch, so he could get the oomph needed to give it the push off, then he could go for his knife . . . Daryl started to let the tension in his arms go.

But then the walker suddenly went limp.

And as the open jaw hung there, now unmoving, only an inch away, with a disgusted grunt and using his bow for leverage, Daryl gave that sack of shit a hard shove, so he could scurry out from underneath. Then with the body now there on the ground . . . though still having no idea how it got to be dead . . . he jumped up and to his feet with the bow now on his shoulder again, and his eyes darting everywhere into the shadows.

Dead guy seemed to be alone though.

"You okay, baby?!" He hissed over his shoulder to Carol. And to that he got back a small, slightly breathless, "yeah, yeah, I'm okay."

And he was just about to turn to see that for himself, when he looked down at the walker that had tried to eat his face . . . it had a knife sticking out of the side of its head. It was his knife.

The one he'd given to Carol.

"Oh, Peach," he gasped in disbelief, "YOU got it!" His eyes snapped back to Carol's slightly wild ones reflecting in the firelight. "You got it all by yourself!"

Looking up at him almost in a daze, she blinked, and nodded.

"Yeah," she coughed back as she started to push herself up, "I know. I can't believe it. That's the first one I've killed, you know," she shook her head as she brought her leg up to curl under her, "because I've always been too afraid before to even try. But I just couldn't watch it snapping at you and not do something." She bit her lip, "I couldn't get to the eyes though like you told me, so I figured I'd try to go in through the ear . . ." her voice faded, "it worked."

"Fuck yeah it did," Daryl grunted in appreciation as he turned and leaned down to grab the smooth handle, "and we're goin' to tell everybody tomorrow, how you figured out a new way to kill 'em. That's a good one too," he paused for a second to give her a firm nod over his shoulder, "because if you can stay away from the front, you can stay away from the teeth."

Then he heard from up high again, another hiss from Glenn.

"You guys, okay?!"

So he brought his arm up and gave him a wave in the dark.

"Yeah, yeah," he huffed out, "we're good," his voice faded, "we're good."

Neither of them had been made into walker chow anyway, and that was good enough. So with a heavy sigh at the close call that one was . . . he was almost losing track now, at how many times he'd almost died in the last month . . . Daryl turned back to the corpse on the ground, and gave that knife a solid yank. Of course it came out all covered in the usual guck and gore, and with the backdrop of the orange coals and the overhead glow from the moonlight, that guck had a real nice shiny blackness to it. So he walked over to the scrub, and gave the blade a good back and forth wipe on the half dead plants. Then just for good measure . . . because he didn't want to give Carol back a mess . . . he wiped the edge of the blade off on his lower pant leg too.

Both sides.

When he turned back around, in the low light of the flames, he could see that Carol was still sitting on the ground, just staring over at the body she'd just put down. Given her expression was kind of blank, he couldn't tell what was on her mind. So he walked back, and stooped down. Then he took her right hand and opened it up. He placed the handle of the knife down onto her palm.

Her fingers closed up around it.

But for a second she just stared at her closed fist, with the blade coming out one end. Once that second passed though, with her other hand, she leaned over to pick up the sheath lying on the ground a couple feet away . . . then she slowly slipped one item inside the other.

It was as she was moving to slide the whole thing back into her pocket again, that Daryl reached out to slip his arm around her shoulders.

"Need to get that hanging off your belt," he puffed out, while pulling her up to her feet, "because if you're goin' to be stepping into things like that, then you'll need to have it handy like I have mine."

Not like he wanted her to be puttin' herself in danger, but that was a ship already out in the sea. She was going to be in danger no matter what. But if she _was_ going to be in the thick of it anyway, it was better she learned to handle herself proper, sooner than later. He'd been thinking later, but the woman clearly had other thoughts on that matter.

Good on her.

And when she whispered against his chest, "can you help me with the strap? Because I don't know how to hang weapons off a belt," he immediately slid his hand up to rub her shoulder.

Still the only place without bruises.

"Course, baby," he murmured with a kiss to her temple, "I'll get you all sorted tomorrow. And we'll start practicing with it too, tomorrow or the day after, so you can get used to pulling the blade out fast, so it won't get snagged or nothing."

Then they were both quiet for a moment before he let out a slow breath.

"I am so proud of you," he whispered with a gentle squeeze of her upper body, "here in the dark, you got no experience in killing walkers, you're lying on the ground, just coming off a beatin' that knocked you cold, and there you are saving my life." His voice thickened, "you are amazing."

It was true, she was. And it kind of made him feel so ridiculously proud of her, and that was weird, because he had never been proud of anyone before. Even himself. So he didn't know what that felt like, what a good feeling it was.

And then Carol tipped her head back.

"I just went on instinct," she answered with a faint shake of her head, "it wasn't even scary really. I mean," she rolled her eyes, "I was _terrified_ , but more that it would get you, than that it would get me. Because like you said, when you're coming at them on the side, the teeth aren't right there, so you don't have the same fear of getting bit." Then her lips pressed together for a second, "I'm glad that was the first one I killed, because if it was chomping right at me, I think I might've frozen up."

"Naw," he shook his head seriously, "you just proved yourself, Peach. You jumped in when you could have just screamed for help. You ain't gonna freeze up," he nodded, "you got walker balls."

Feeling her mouth start to quiver, Carol let her head fall back to Daryl's chest. Then she huffed into his shirt, "walker balls. You should trademark that."

"Pfft, yeah," he snorted, "I'll make a million."

Then he took a deep breath and patted her hip, because that was enough fun for one night. Really, any more fun, and one of 'em might have a fucking heart attack. To that end, he found his jaw twitching as he gave another cautious look over to the body he'd have to burn in the morning, and then towards the trees, and all they couldn't see.

There was just too much.

"Come on, Peach," he let out on a soft sigh as he gave her a tug, "time to go to bed."

* * *

 _A/N 2: Big chapter, lots of notes._

 _Little point as to the layout of the camp. In my mind, I always remembered the 'fire pit' area, as being just down a few yards out from the front of the RV. And that is correct as far as it goes. But on the REWATCH, I realized they had TWO areas where they built a fire. One in that middle area, and another closer to the trees, under the overhang. Which kind of makes sense given how there are more people in the camp than we all remembered too. Like we remember the people that had names, but in the pilot, and then randomly sprinkled through the background in other season 1 eps, there are probably another half dozen extras around so more than one fire pit is logical._

 _I know there was a TON of narrative here, but I wanted very much to cover this entire day and I tried a couple of approaches in writing it, mostly sort of in 'recap' mode but I just felt it came out drier than some parts would have otherwise. It just seemed to have more life to it when I wrote it 'live,' even the parts where Daryl was narrating. And I was trying not to make the earliest bits seems too perfunctory, but all of the actions around cleaning out the tent and going through Ed's things, and how he and Sophia spent their time, were important, so I couldn't skip them either. Doing this whole day live though with all action and dialogue would have easily been a hundred pages, so sometimes narrative is needed. But then fortunately I got a few more paragraphs in, and I got to the "Daddy Daryl" theme, and I thought it gave the rest of the chapter (the parts with him and Sophia) a lot more life. Because it wasn't just his day we were walking through, it was his day where he starts to figure out how to open himself up to the idea of being a 'parent.' Because it's one thing for him to take care of Sophia because Carol loves her, and he's growing to care for Carol, but it's something else for him to realize that he can build a bond, and care for Sophia in a way that's completely separate from his growing feelings for Carol. And this last step was what we needed. For Daryl to see that he could care about Sophia because of who SHE was, and not for who her mother was. Not every chapter has a 'theme' to it, sometimes it's action and sometimes it's just kicking the rock down the road, but this one with the opening of dry, unsweetened oatmeal :) definitely needed a theme. It's weird sometimes what random thread you find to pull, that makes something work when it really didn't before, but it is SO satisfying when it happens. Because it went in one day from me reading it over muttering, "nobody will ever want to read this shitty chapter," to "okay, now we're almost not shit!" Ha, ha! Then fortunately we got to the Daryl/Carol sections and they are so easy to write with their back and forth, and their cuddling, that I didn't have to worry anymore about anybody being bored :)_

 _And to that conversation with Sophia their little family 'unit,' as much as we make Daryl out to be the good guy who just said some ignorant things to start (his Asian comments for instance) it's just not realistic that the same household/belt whipping father which produced Merle's level of hateful bigotry, wouldn't have turned out a young Daryl who said some really bad shit as well. At least through his teen years when he would've been, likely, still very isolated in their backwoods community, just living around people who thought and spoke like his father did, and he wouldn't have known any different, or any better. And being abused and orphaned would have made it worse, because he would've been filled with a lot of misplaced rage through all those same years when boys have too much testosterone anyway. But with Merle confirming later on that Daryl was always the sweet one, you know that even in those REALLY bad, angry years, buried deep underneath all that pain and rage, he would have still been Sweet Daryl with a good heart. And seeing that at 40, he was NOT using the N word 'openly' like Merle was, I think it seems logical (as I put over in his backstory for TIN as well) that he'd worked to retrain himself to try not use the words he'd been taught growing up, because that kind of meanness and hatred just wasn't part of him. And from there he just kept learning and evolving to make himself better than he'd been raised. To season 1 telling Glenn there was no difference between Chinese and Korean, to season 3, screaming "he's Korean" to Merle out in the forest. And it might have seemed like a lot of talking for him with Sophia :) but once she brought up how Merle used bad words, I think Daryl would've seen it as a lie, in a way, to not tell her, well, I've used those words before too, and this is why I did, this is why I don't anymore, and this is why Merle still does. Because again, he was really trying to step up here and be a person who could take care of a child, but he was still insecure about whether he really had the ability to be that standup guy, so he wasn't going to shine her on._

 _And though the majority of this chapter really was about Daryl and Sophia, because we had this HUGE posting gap, at the end, I wanted to bring some of the romance back to the story, and a little of the canon humor between Carol and Daryl. But I also wanted Carol to start being Carol, just a smidge. Because she was already shaking off the Ed Yoke with the scene of confronting him for going after Sophia, so from there we are an AU Carol who broke her own bonds, so she just needed another push in the right direction. And I wanted her push to be a walker because I wanted her to kill one now, at the stage where she wouldn't believe that she could. So the only way to work that realistically would be if she was against the ropes with either herself or someone she cared about, on the verge of being bit. But she wasn't strong enough physically to fight off, AND kill a walker here, so I couldn't have it attack her. If Daryl was pinned though, and she had the knife, and all she needed was COURAGE, I knew she could do it, and it wouldn't ring false. Not like if I tried to start making her into Season 5 Super Carol, back when Ed still was getting picked apart by the buzzards. That wouldn't work :) And yes, we will keep checking in to see what state of decomp Ed is in._

 _I just did a season 3 rewatch while I was proofing this draft so that really helped me spark up Merle's dialogue, and it also gave me a the impetus to write Andrea a tiny bit more sympathetically here. I have issues with her behavior in season 3 (the complete lack of logic to any of her actions as relates to The Governor, basically), but her issues are very different than in seasons 1 and 2 where I just hate like 97% of everything she does and everything she says. So I don't know, I might cut her a little slack for a bit :)_

 _You also might notice that I'm writing Jim to be a creepy douchebag, but that's because I thought that he WAS a creepy douchebag in canon. I know that mostly he seemed like kind of a neutral character that most people remember best for him going nutty with the sunstroke and digging all the graves. But part of that same episode where he was pissed that everybody wouldn't leave him alone to be batshit crazy, I think a lot of people missed that he made a remark to the effect that Shane had been out of line beating up Ed. And when somebody says, Shane did that because Ed was hitting Carol, Jim states that what went on in Ed and Carol's marriage wasn't anybody else's business. So yeah, he was a fucking asshole. Beyond that though, I do find that to be creepy behavior, because if you heard a 'family man' say that, wouldn't you then start thinking completely differently about what could be going in his household once the doors are closed and the shades are down? Yes, you would. Because again, that's some creepy shit. So I felt like expanding his role here a bit in part for the conflict, but also again, because I just felt it rang more true that in this AU he would have been pushing back on Ed's treatment. Because by his estimation, nobody should have gotten involved at all, regardless of what Ed had done. It's that banality of evil, and it bothered me actually in canon that they had Carol taking care of him when he was bit, when he'd said that about her. Like, he basically said flat out, I don't care that her husband kicks the shit out of her, and then there's no follow up to that with them. If they were going to have her take care of him, they should have given her a line to address that point of how she was helping him, even if he wouldn't have helped her. Just SOMETHING! But obviously things in this timeline are very different so even if Jim still gets bit, his 'care' would go very differently as well :)_

 _So anyway, we got through another day with them, and I did have an even longer draft here with Rick's coming arrival, but I decided to cut where I did because the final came out SO long, that it was a good fat read by itself. We'll definitely circle back here soon'ish though, because I do have the next draft moving, and I think you'll all be happy with the re-envision of Rick's arrival, and the shitstorm that followed ;)_

 _Thanks all! Hope the wait was worth it!_


	10. This Time And This Place

**Author's Note** : A few time jumps here, but lots of cuddling and lots of messiness too, so hang on ;)

Picking up a few days after we left.

* * *

 **This Time And This Place**

Carol's watery eyes popped open as she let out a gasp.

For a moment she just lay there trying to catch her lost breath, until finally she felt her horrible dream start to fade. That's when she blinked the moisture from her eyes, and let her hand slide up from Daryl's chest, so she could lightly brush her fingers along his cheek instead.

Fortunately he didn't stir at the touch because she didn't actually want to wake him, but still . . . her eyes started to fill again . . . she'd just needed to feel his skin. To reassure herself, yet again, that he was okay. Because he'd almost died that afternoon on a supply run. In fact, he'd come so close to being torn apart by a pack of walkers, that she still hadn't shaken off that initial panic she'd felt when she'd first heard the story. That was precisely why she'd just woken up from her _second_ nightmare of the evening where her brain had spun a terrible tale of things going the other way . . . the way where he hadn't made it back to camp at all. And she was not prepared to lose him. She bit her lip.

Not right when they'd just found each other out here in this hell.

It had been twelve days since she and Daryl had first met, and four days since they'd gotten together. So that was four days since he and Merle had freed her and Sophia from Ed. Today though, this had been the first day that Daryl had left the camp for any length of time. Not that he hadn't still been going out looking for game each day, but he'd changed his approach there. First he'd taken to setting up snares just outside the tree line with the hope of catching the occasional rabbit or squirrel wandering through. Then for his daily hunts, rather than tracking for miles like he'd been doing since he and Merle had arrived, instead he'd been working in small circles, going out in a different direction of the forest each morning. Then again in the afternoon.

He said that way he could keep covering new ground, but still only be gone for no more than an hour or so each time he left.

And that wasn't something that she'd asked him to do . . . it wasn't something that she ever _would_ have asked him to do . . . it was something he'd decided all on his own. It was the morning after Ed's beat down, while Daryl was getting the knife sheath hooked onto her belt that he'd told her how he wouldn't be taking any long trips out of camp until he was sure she was one hundred percent on the mend. He'd said that was because he was worried about another walker stumbling out of the woods like the one she'd killed the night before, when she didn't have the strength yet to be playing Wonder Woman on a daily basis. Then he'd shot her a little half grin as he'd added on a whisper, that Wonder Woman would come later. Of course him saying that had made her tear up even while she was giving him a happy smile. Because it was yet another sign of how much she could grow with him. Daryl was a man who _believed_ in her.

And nobody had ever believed in her before.

It had actually already made a difference too, not only in her physical recovery the last few days, but in her mental health as well, just knowing that he thought she could be strong like that. It also helped to know that he already cared enough to want to stay close by even if he obviously couldn't spend all of his time with her and Sophia. Because of course there was still so much for everyone to do with the chores.

And Daryl had definitely been doing more than his share.

Like when he wasn't out in the forest tracking game, he was chopping firewood, or hauling water, and yesterday he'd spent most of the morning digging out a new latrine. That was right before he'd spent another full hour filling in their old one. But he'd said that in this kind of heat, it was important to do that once a week to keep the animals away. The fact that he even _knew_ basic survival things like that, things that nobody else seemed to know . . . except probably Merle who seemed less inclined to share that knowledge . . . showed just how important Daryl's presence was to the group, whether the others really appreciated that yet or not. And Carol knew that the group were probably split sixty/forty on him right now. She sniffled.

He'd definitely been pushing the odds in his favor though.

Because beyond just the 'grunt' labor he'd been doing, two days earlier he'd also taken it upon himself to do an assembly line spit and polish of all the guns in camp. He'd said he wanted to make sure they were all in good working order for the next time they got unwanted visitors. And that offer of his was something that people _had_ genuinely appreciated, because most of the group, (prior to the last few weeks), had minimal firearms experience. So Daryl had told everybody to drop their guns off in shifts.

The only rule was they had to bring their own oil.

The great thing about that was, he'd actually let Sophia help him that day. Not that he'd let her touch any of the fully assembled guns of course, they'd both agreed it was much too soon for that, but as he sat out under the awning in that sweltering heat and took those weapons apart one by one, he'd shown her daughter the pieces, what each one of them were called, how to wipe them down, oil them up . . . and then put the whole gun, or rifle, back together again. By the end of the afternoon Carol had been so proud when she came out of the trailer to see that when Daryl took the last handgun apart, Andrea's . . . he'd let her stay and watch too . . . and he'd asked Sophia to name the pieces on the cloth, she'd gotten every one of them right. Andrea had clapped.

Daryl had grinned from ear to ear.

Truly, in the four days that man had been spending regular time with her daughter, he'd already taught that girl more than her daddy had over the entirety of her young life. And Sophia wasn't the only one who had benefited from Daryl's lessons that past week. With her and Lori's permission, he'd also shown both Sophia and Carl (plus the two of them) how to start a fire without matches. Even though that only took maybe twenty minutes of his time, him doing that seemed to irk Shane quite a bit. Like he thought that Daryl was stepping on his turf with Carl or something. But Lori had told her in private later on that Shane didn't know how to start a fire that way, and she thought it was a good skill for her son to have, and she was the boy's mother so Shane was just going to have to deal with it. Obviously Lori did have final say, but even so, that tiny bit of tension over such a ridiculously small issue had set things back between the two men. At the time, neither she nor Lori had realized how much it had set them back. It had just seemed to be unfortunate that their small peace hadn't held longer. In the end though, Carol knew that all they'd ever had in common was just a brief common cause, in their hatred of Ed. And now that he'd been removed from the group (though infuriatingly, he was still hanging on there, half dead out in the field) the two of them had almost immediately started falling back into their old patterns again. Really, it was _Shane_ that had fallen back into the old patterns, Daryl had just gotten pulled into his crap. But now after what had happened that _morning_ . . . Carol's jaw started to tighten as she thought back . . . the tension was even worse than it had been when she'd first arrived in camp. And she hated it.

She was actually starting to hate Shane.

Because God knew that they had _real_ , common issues to overcome as a group, things that should be bringing everyone together, but here this man was walking around carrying on with this crazy, petty, nonsense. She didn't understand his ways at all. The one thing she knew for sure though, was that pettiness of his had contributed to Daryl almost dying that afternoon.

Because Daryl wasn't supposed to be out on that run AT ALL today!

Again, he had rotated himself back to camp until she was well. Then this morning over breakfast, while the guys were going over their plans for the day, Daryl had stepped back into the trailer to get her sweater because there'd been a chill in the air. Shane had taken those few seconds to make a dig about Daryl being "too busy now with domestic life" (meaning _her_ ) to take his turn on the food runs anymore. Of course he did it with a smile, like it was a big joke or something.

Nobody thought it was a joke.

That was obvious from the immediate, tension filled silence that settled over the rest of the group sitting around the fire. And Carol had wanted to call Shane out as the spineless jerk that he was for not only waiting until Daryl had gone inside to take his shot at him, but also just for taking the shot at all(!) when he damn well KNEW how much Daryl had been helping out that week with literally EVERYTHING around the camp! But she hadn't had the courage to speak up for him, and she was ashamed of that. So instead she'd just sat there with her stomach churning and her face getting hot with all of the anger and resentment . . . and yes _embarrassment(!)_ . . . she'd been feeling for not only herself, but for Daryl too.

That was right before Daryl had stepped back out of the trailer door.

It turned out that her new man had really good ears, so he'd heard EXACTLY what Shane had said about him after he'd stepped away. And as he was walking back down the hill with her sweater over his arm, he'd hollered out that if Shane had something to share with him, maybe he could try not being a little pussy ass bitch about it and maybe say it to his face instead. Of course Shane had not taken well to being called a pussy ass bitch in front of the entire camp . . . Merle's cackled, "you get him little brother!" clearly hadn't helped anything either . . . because then Shane was up on his feet, eyes blazing like a crazy person. Truly, for just a second he'd looked as insane as Ed always had, right before he'd start to kick in her ribs. It was that blackness that had frightened her the most. Even worse than that though, was how Shane's hand had actually gone straight to his hip. It had looked like he was about to pull his gun.

All because Daryl had embarrassed him.

Thank God he hadn't actually pulled the weapon, but that might have only been because that's when Lori had jumped up and grabbed that same arm. Even then Shane had tried to shake her off, but from where she was on the other side of the fire (with Sophia cowering in her lap, and Daryl then standing behind her), Carol had seen Lori's nails actually _gouging_ into Shane's bicep.

There'd been a small trickle of blood running down his arm.

Then she was up on the toes of her boots, hissing something . . . clearly furious . . . directly into his ear. Whatever it was had made him freeze just before he shot a look over his shoulder at Carl. And Carl had been looking up at him the same way that pretty much everyone else (besides the Dixon brothers) had been looking up at him.

With genuine fear.

Because Shane's behavior at that moment had been _ALARMING_ , to say the least! Not only had he instigated the entire ridiculous incident in question, but then when Daryl had (rightly) responded that it'd been cowardly to wait until he'd stepped away to say anything at all, he'd immediately reached for his _GUN_! Before that moment, the only person Carol had ever met who would pick a fight out of nowhere, and then attempt to escalate that fight into a full out of act of violence in less than two minutes flat . . . was Ed. The whole thing had really shaken her up. Everyone actually had seemed shaken up. The only one who'd said anything openly though about that was Dale. While Lori was still hissing whatever she'd been saying into Shane's ear, that's when Dale had stood up to point out how nobody needed this kind of stupid bickering to start up again.

That it was scaring people.

Daryl had been leaning over to put the sweater on her shoulders then, so all he'd grunted out was a "mind your business, old man." There wasn't any fire in it though because Carol knew that he wasn't really angry with Dale. He was angry with Shane. That had been the whole reason he'd ended up going out on that run.

Just to spite that son of a bitch.

Even though Shane had stalked off from the group and had then ended up disappearing for most of the day after Lori had pulled away from him, Daryl had still felt like he'd needed to prove himself or something. It was just silly macho pride. Of course she'd tried to talk him out of it, because he hadn't had anything to prove to anyone, but he hadn't been in the mood to listen to her. "He's just a jerk, bear," is what she'd whispered to him in the trailer, "and I think everybody could finally see that today. It's not you with the problem, it's him. People are starting to come to you for things, and I think he's jealous that you're taking away some of his influence, and this is him acting out like a child would." All she'd gotten back to that was a somewhat dismissive grunt as Daryl had continued to pace angrily back and forth, biting his thumb nail. A second later though he'd turned around and let out a heavy sigh, right before he'd leaned down to kiss her cheek, so she was pretty sure that what she'd said had at least meant something to him.

Even if it hadn't actually stopped him from leaving.

The run itself had been vital though. Over the few days that she'd been out of commission, their food pantry had dwindled down to a half a bag of mealy rice, (Daryl had shared the unpopular opinion that they were extra protein, and they should just leave the little worms in), one unopened jar of pickles, four packets of oatmeal, and (not counting the one Daryl told her to keep hidden in her own bag), the last three cans of her emergency Spam. Of course when you were feeding upwards of twenty plus people, three times a day, even on ration, the supplies went quickly. That was even with Daryl (and sometimes Merle) still bringing in two or three squirrels and rabbits each day too, but again, two dozen people needed a lot of calories just to stay alive.

Every trip out into the world was so dangerous now though.

One of the first members of the camp to have been killed, Lamar, he'd died on literally the first food run that any of them had made. But even worse than the physical danger they always faced, was the hard reality that they were actually running out of places to scavenge. The reason for that was simple though, nobody in their group was from that area, so nobody knew where anything was! Which meant that short of stores or restaurants someone might have seen from the highway, finding new locations to pilfer food from was all a matter of luck. And once everyone had realized how dire things were getting, yesterday there had been some 'sitting around the fire' talk of actually going into the city with the hopes of maybe making a really big score that would tide them all over long enough to start making other plans to find a more permanent camp. But Atlanta had just _scores_ of walkers everywhere . . . Glenn, T-Dog and Jacqui had all said the same thing, that they'd barely gotten out of there alive . . . so a trip into the city was the option of last resort. So what the others had decided on instead . . . another tear spilled down Carol's cheek as she thought back to earlier in the day . . . was that it was time to go on what they'd called a, "house to house." And that was just what it had sounded like, the group selected for the run would drive down from the quarry, pick a town relatively close by that didn't seem to be overly infested with walkers, and then they would just go from one (theoretically) abandoned house to the next, to see what they could find in the kitchens and pantries. Scavenging like that wasn't _as_ risky as going into Atlanta, but it was still incredibly unsafe because there was no way of knowing from one house to another, what a person would find on the other side of a door. The place could be abandoned, or there could be living survivors in there still willing to kill to protect their loved ones and supplies, or there could be a whole (literal) family of walkers wandering around inside any, or EVERY, one of those houses.

There was just SO much that could wrong.

It was a sign of how desperate they were though, that when Lori pointed that fact out yet again when they were loading up . . . that somebody could literally die today . . . most everyone else just shrugged. So at a little after nine am, a four man team had headed out in T-Dog's church van with a map, one spare tire, and one spare canister of gasoline. The group had consisted of Glenn because Glenn always volunteered for the supply runs, (that was his thing), then T-Dog and Morales just because it was their turn again, and the last person was supposed to be Jacqui.

Daryl took her place.

And by what the men told everyone when they got back to camp late that afternoon, the first part of the trip went okay. Because their plans were so loose, they'd just headed for the closest town they could go to and get back from with only two turns off the main road. Daryl had said that going in a straight line would've been dangerous if they'd picked up any stragglers. So then once they'd found a neighborhood with decent sized houses and minimal walkers in the street, they'd parked in the middle of the block, had thrown their empty duffel bags up on their shoulders . . . and had headed out. T-Dog said later that the first two homes had been clear of live walkers, but that was because they'd already been raided by somebody else. That was obvious by the empty cabinets, and the number of dead walkers that they'd found scattered throughout the houses. So they'd gone on further down the street, and then around the block, slowly picking up a few boxes and cans here or there, and killing only four walkers over eleven houses, which they'd thought wasn't bad at all. Finally though, at the twelfth house, they'd hit a gold mine. Not of food . . . once again this had been a place where all of the cabinet doors in the kitchen had been hanging open, and the shelves were bare . . . but of almost everything BUT food. They'd found a stash of supplies all in an upstairs bedroom.

Apparently nobody who had come through before them, had thought to do a search up there before.

Their loss though, was what Glenn said had been the group's initial thought, because in what had seemed to them to have been the master bedroom, they'd found six huge cases of toilet paper, the kind with thirty plus rolls each, two cases of paper towel, four boxes of personal wipes, a case of tissues, jumbo bottles of Tylenol and vitamins, two first aid kids, bottles of antacid, bottles of shampoo, packs of razors, boxes of bulk count tampons, and ten whole, six pack bars of Lever soap in Pure Rain scent.

Every one of them had still been in their cellophane wrapping.

It had been obvious to the guys, that this family of five . . . who'd they'd found twice dead scattered throughout the downstairs . . . had made a run to one of those warehouse stores not too long before everything had been shut down. Then it seemed like they must of died almost immediately afterwards. And likely they'd bought just as much bulk food as they had those other supplies, but clearly that would have been the first thing taken by anybody else who had broken in earlier. Still, what they'd found in that one room had been just what they'd needed to raise their spirits that day.

Then a choice was made that changed everything.

Because they'd found so much, and with most of it being bulk items that were impossible to fit into their small carry bags, they'd needed to start bringing some stuff back to the van to begin loading up. Daryl and Glenn had volunteered to handle that step, while the other two kept digging around the house just to make sure they hadn't missed any of that bulk food hidden away in another room.

Unfortunately that was when things had started to go wrong.

Because while Daryl and Glenn were heading down the sidewalk with their arms full of toilet paper and paper towel, and the bags on their shoulders packed with the tampons and pads (the women begged for those on every trip) on the next block over . . . a car alarm had started going off. That still happened sometimes even after the world ended, because some of those alarms were so sensitive that a walker just bumping into the car, could set one off. No matter what the trigger had been though, the sound alone had been enough for Daryl and Glenn to take off at a run. Because as they'd already known would . . . and did . . . happen, that bleating sound had woken up ALL of the walkers in the area. They hadn't even been able to reach the end of the street, let alone the van, before they were being swarmed.

At least that was how Glenn had put it when he was telling everyone back at camp what had happened.

Daryl hadn't put things any way, at all. In fact he had not hung around for "story time," as he'd called it, while walking away. However their tale was told though, the others had learned how more than a dozen walkers had begun to stumble out from behind the houses and trees immediately surrounding them on that block. Glenn had said that all he and Daryl had had time to do was just toss their supplies off into the grass, and climb under one of the parked cars in the street to try and hide. They hadn't been fast enough though, because while they were under there, one of the walkers limping by had gotten a whiff of them. The next thing Glenn knew, there were rotted fingers scratching at him from the side. And there was no room to maneuver under that little car, so he'd rolled into Daryl . . . and Daryl had rolled out into the street. They'd barely had time to get to their feet again before two more walkers were lumbering straight at them. The first one Daryl had taken out with a knife to the eye.

The second one Glenn took down with his baseball bat.

Still, they kept coming though. One, stumbling, undead body at a time. In the end, they'd ended up killing at least a dozen or so walkers right there all by themselves in the street. And for their troubles, they'd both come back covered with guck. The real concern though, was how in the middle of that melee, before T-Dog and Morales had shown up to help them get enough cover to run for the van, Daryl's shirt had been ripped near to shreds in the back.

Those dead people always had very long fingernails.

And when Carol had seen Daryl climbing out of the front passenger seat with his clothes torn, and dried blood and guts literally ALL over him, she'd immediately burst into tears as she'd rushed over, sobbing, "oh my God, what happened?!" But of course Daryl had just waved her off with a weary, "ain't nothing, Peach. Just need to clean up is all." So with the others still piling out of the van, pulling out what was left of their haul . . . all the toilet paper had been ruined with gore and a most of the other stuff had been dropped fighting through the walkers that had kept rolling in for that car alarm . . . Daryl had headed off alone with just his bow, and one single bar of the soap that Carol had found out afterwards, they'd pulled out of that house and had luckily been zipped up in T-Dog's bagpack. And while Daryl was down in their makeshift shower by the trees scrubbing himself clean, Glenn . . . who had been just as much of a mess as her man, and still shaking while he'd stood there by the bumper of T-Dog's van . . . had told everyone the story of what had happened to them. By the time he was done, Carol had been ready to fall to her knees. Because that was as close to dying from a walker attack, that any of them had come in some time. Even the other night when that one had come out of the woods, it was just the one, and Daryl'd still had it pinned off of him before she'd stabbed it.

And he was strong enough that even alone, he probably could have handled things without any help from her.

But getting caught in a continuing _swarm_ of them like that . . . she started to sniffle again . . . the odds were against anyone making it out alive. That was something they'd learned time and again, first in footage on the Internet coming out of India when the whispers of the outbreak had started, then later on with the twenty-four hour TV coverage of all the major global cities falling, and then finally it was happening in the streets right outside their own homes. And even if a person did by some _miracle_ survive that kind of attack, usually they'd still have taken a bite or two in the process of getting away. Which was of course Carol's real concern when she'd heard that story . . . the stray bites. Her fears there had been what had given her the strength to huff and puff (her shirt seriously had been soaked through with sweat), while she'd dragged her stiff, aching body all the way across the field to go check on Daryl.

She'd also brought him a towel and a set of clean clothes.

And though he'd grunted something at her under his breath . . . it had sounded like, "you ain't supposed to be out walking by yourself" . . . it had been clear that he was not looking for her to stay and keep him company. Probably because he'd still been quite the mess, with bloody suds in his hair and on his face, and more still dripping down his legs behind the small divider. So she'd just hung his clean things over the brush, blown him a kiss, and had started limping back the way she'd come. Andrea had already been running over to help her before she'd even reached the halfway point of the field. And to her credit, as the younger woman had slipped her arm around her waist and had pulled her sweaty, stumbling body against her side, she didn't chastise her for being so stupid trying to walk so far all alone.

That was even though Carol still hadn't caught her breath by the time they'd got back to the main fire pit.

Of course that was where she'd had to take the worried looks from everyone else. But she'd just ignored them all because she was tired of those looks of pity, even though she knew nobody really meant them unkindly.

She just wanted to be healed up again and not have to be getting looks from anyone at all.

So after Andrea had finally let her go, she'd collected Sophia from Amy while assuring her young friend that Daryl was fine (a point that Carol wasn't then sure of herself, but knew she'd needed to lie about anyway because she'd remembered that being in a "real" relationship meant that you backed each other up to outsiders no matter what) she and her very agitated daughter (she'd seen what Daryl and Glenn had looked like getting out of the van) had gone into the trailer to wait for Daryl.

It had been another fifteen minutes or so before he'd shown up.

The second that outside step had creaked though, and he'd put his bare foot through the doorway, Sophia had bolted off the bench seat to slam into his chest. It wasn't until he'd tipped his head down, and hugged her daughter close while whispering in her ear that he was okay, and how he was always going to be okay because he wasn't going to leave them alone, well, that was when Carol's tears had returned.

She'd been fighting them off ever since.

Part of her felt kind of justified in how emotional she'd been feeling though, because of what had happened after Daryl had had some water and all three of them had gone to sit down in the back of the RV where they could have some privacy. And Carol had really tried to be good and just let him decompress with her cuddled against one side of him, and Sophia the other. He'd had an arm around each of them. But not five minutes had passed of total silence between the three of them, before she couldn't help herself from asking him if she could just double check and make sure he hadn't gotten any bites or scratches anywhere.

She just hadn't been able to stop picturing those bloody soap suds.

At first she'd felt Daryl tense up at the question, and as she'd lifted her head, he'd shot a look down to Sophia snuggled in on his other side. It was clear he didn't want her around for whatever he was going to say next, so Carol had sat up, and leaned over to dig a crossword out from her bag on the end of the bunk. The puzzle book was passed along to Sophia with the instruction to go sit up on the roof with Dale, until she and Daryl were done talking. Any other day of course Carol would have sent her daughter out to Lori, but she didn't want Sophia anywhere around Shane with him acting so crazy earlier, and with his whereabouts still having been unknown at that time, she'd been afraid of him suddenly popping up.

The roof was the one place he couldn't be.

So once Sophia had reluctantly shuffled out, Daryl had again started his pacing back and forth. It was just like before he'd left on the food run, with his brow scrunching as he'd chewed on his thumbnail. But this time he was also muttering. Saying that he was fine, that there weren't no bites or scratches nowhere.

He was sure of it.

The more insistent he'd been that there was nothing to see, the more worried she'd started to get that maybe there really WAS something to see, and he'd been trying to spare her from having to worry until the end. It wasn't until she'd said that, with a crack in her voice, that he'd finally stopped pacing, and had turned to give her a look. Whatever he saw on her face, made his own expression soften for just a moment. The moment passed quickly though, because then he'd taken a deep breath and had given her a hard look right before he'd brought his finger up and shook it at her as he'd said with a real bite in his tone. "All right, you can check, Peach. But you ain't to say nothing about nothing, unless you see fresh blood, you got it?"

At that point she'd been so confused and frightened that she'd just given him a sharp, nervous nod of her head, because she'd probably would have agreed to anything just then so long as she was allowed to look. So he'd taken another deep breath, bit his lip . . . and started to undo his belt. It had only taken a moment for him to drop his pants, and for her to do a quick check around his legs. All that was there were a few pink'ish marks that were obviously bug bites, so she'd given him a nod and a nervous smile and he'd yanked his pants back up, got the zipper and refastened the belt. That's when his hands had gone to his shirt buttons . . . and that's where they'd stilled.

Finally he'd let out a heavy breath and had started slowly sliding each little plastic circle out from its tiny hole. Given how the shirt he'd been wearing earlier had been torn half off him, Carol had assumed (at that moment) his reluctance to strip the clean one off had to do with his worries about possible having a scratch or a bite under there.

It turned out that she couldn't have been more wrong.

Because when he'd finally slipped the flannel off his shoulders and had turned around, that's when she'd seen the marks there. Not new ones . . . thank God there'd been no new ones . . . but all of the old ones. The white and silvery scars cutting back and forth, that matched so many of the ones that she had on her own body. And even though Daryl had already told her himself that he'd grown up with a daddy like Sophia's, seeing those scars he'd still had ALL those decades later, they'd just made her heart break. When she'd started crying though and had brought her hand to her mouth, Daryl had immediately snatched his shirt up from the bunk, and had started shoving his arms back into his sleeves.

It had been clear that he was upset.

But what she hadn't been sure at first was if the upset was anger about her reaction, or anger about the marks being there at all. Before she could even begin to stammer out an apology, she'd seen the pink in his cheeks as he'd begun to fumble to redo his buttons. That's when she'd realized what was really happening.

He'd been embarrassed.

Because it was one thing to admit in passing that he'd a shitty father, but it was another thing to have to expose himself, and let someone else see the evidence of what had been done to him. Luckily she'd come to understand the difference all too well between admitting something as a fact, and having other people's pitying looks at the physical damage that had been done to your body. That's what she'd been dealing with for years, and even worse still the last few days.

That was why she was so sick of it.

So before Daryl had been able to close himself off completely, she'd pushed herself up with a wince, and had gently nudged his fingers away so she could finish buttoning his shirt herself. And by the time she was done, and had patted his chest, she could feel his eyes on her.

She'd looked up to see that they were wide and watery.

But she'd also seen how frantically he'd been trying to blink those tears away. So to save him that embarrassment too, she'd quickly tipped her head down and tucked her head under his chin. A moment later he'd wrapped her up in his arms.

"You don't tell nobody, okay?" He'd whispered then with a crackle in his voice.

"Of course," she'd sniffled back against his chest, "never."

That moment with him had been feeding her tears for all the hours since then. Because every time she looked at him now, she would remember yet again that not only had she almost lost him that day, but she'd also be reminded of how much he'd had to suffer just to become the man who had saved _her,_ five days earlier. And he was a wonderful man, truly, the kind she'd long given up the hope of ever having. For some reason though, there they were.

Meant to be.

Maybe.

But her worries about him were why, earlier that night, she'd been waiting for him when he'd climbed down off the roof after his walker shift. But tonight, unlike the other evening when she'd just asked if they could go over and sit by the fire for a bit, she'd opted to tug him straight into the trailer. That had happened under his whispered protest in the dark of, "Peach, come on now, Dale said you and Sophia could stay here, not me." She'd ignored that though because it had been a non-protest, protest, which basically meant that Daryl hadn't said he didn't _want_ to sleep there, he'd just said that he didn't think he was _welcome_ to sleep there. And that was nonsense. Because Dale had told her more than once now, his trailer was her trailer. And it was _her_ bed in that trailer that she'd been offering up to share. Daryl wasn't taking up any extra space. Besides that, having him there was good physical protection for not only her and Sophia, but Dale too.

And with the things that could stumble out of the woods these days, it would be ridiculous for anyone to scoff at having someone like Daryl around to keep you safe.

So since eleven pm, and it was probably close to the middle of the night now, she'd been curled up on this twin sized bunk, with Daryl's hard body wrapped all the way around hers just so she could make sure he was okay. And even though she felt safer being there with him than she had ever felt anywhere before, apocalypse be damned, again this was still the second time that night where she'd woken up from a nightmare. The fears though were feeding these horrible dreams she was having about losing him, she knew that she _HAD_ to shake them, and fast. Because this was no longer a world where a person had time for any kind of phobia nonsense.

Not to mention, she had enough real 'Ed related' crap that she was working through already!

But even though she kept repeating over and over to herself in her head that she needed to just get it together, she couldn't stop the tears that kept welling up. Hell maybe there was PMS feeding them or something.

Otherwise she was just losing her damn mind!

It was just then, when she was scrubbing at her face for the third time in the last ten plus minutes, that she felt Daryl let out a soft exhale, right before he gave a sleepy mumble of, "you okay, Peach?"

Her eyes popped open wide then, because the last thing she'd meant to do with her squirming was to wake him up. And she especially didn't want him to wake up and find her crying.

It would just upset him.

So she quickly swallowed and blinked twice, trying to clear the tears from both her voice and her eyes as she nuzzled her cheek against the curve of his throat . . . tonight he smelled like Lever soap and campfire.

"I'm sorry," she whispered back with more crackle in her words than she would have liked, "I just had a cramp is all and shifted a bit. Probably should have had some water before bed."

Though it was true that she was feeling a bit crampy in general beyond just her generally achy body . . . which actually did give some weight to her PMS theory because periods were something it was easy to lose track of these days . . . it wasn't until she'd actually said what she'd said out loud, that she realized it was the exact _wrong_ thing to say to this man. Because as she felt Daryl now begin to shift around, she realized he was about to get up and go get her a drink of water.

Crap.

"No, no," she whispered with a light pat to his chest, "it's okay, Pookie. I don't need anything."

"Actually," he yawned back, "it sounds to me like you need the canteen."

And with that, she felt him put one hand on her hip, as he put one leg over her side, so he could step down onto the narrow strip of linoleum floor separating their bunk from Sophia's. Even in the dark, there was still enough muted moonlight coming in from the cracks in the blinds to see the outline of where you were going inside the trailer. So once he was upright, it only took a second for Daryl to go over and dig out his canteen from the top of her small pile of bags before he turned back and walked over to the top end of her bunk again.

He stooped down.

"Here," he whispered, while reaching out to take her hand . . . he pushed the smooth metal into it, "take a drink, and I'll get you some of the new Tylenol."

"No, no," she started on a quiet protest, "we should save those, there are only . . . "

Then she trailed off, because she'd just remembered that Glenn had managed to salvage two of the unopened bottles from that house, and each bottle had five hundred pills in them. And a thousand pills, even if they divvied them up and let every family have a share for their own private supplies . . . which is what they'd been talking about doing that night around the fire . . . were still a heck of a lot of pills. Also though, early yesterday, she'd run out of the _good_ pills Daryl had swiped for her from Merle's magic bag, and with basically almost her whole upper body a fresh shade of purple or black, and only baby aspirin to cut that edge, she'd just been sucking up a lot of hurt ever since.

Thank god really she'd already had so much practice in that department, or she probably would've been screaming.

Because as she saw Daryl pushing the divider aside to step out to the front part of the shadowy trailer, all she could think was that some Tylenol really did sound amazing right then. Keeping that point in mind, it was possible that the constant pain she'd been living in the last few days was also likely contributing to her lack of emotional control. And if she folded in the likelihood of her period coming up soon . . . thinking back, she hadn't had one since before Washington fell . . . that would at least explain away her weepiness for physical reasons rather than mental ones. So when Daryl came back in with _three_ of the Tylenol ("I almost died for this shit, I'll take as many as I damn well please," was his reasoning), she was able to give him a real (not weepy) bright smile, right before she sat up and tossed the pills back with one more small sip from the canteen.

Then Daryl made her take another full swig just because he didn't want her getting dehydrated.

But once she was RE-hydrated to his satisfaction, ("those kind of muscle cramps ain't nothing to mess with, baby,") he took the canteen away and tucked it into the outer pocket of her hobo bag. A few seconds later his body was ghosting over hers as he climbed back onto the far side of the small bunk. So she let her lashes flutter shut and tried to will away the last of the moisture she could feel in her eyes. It wasn't until she felt the protection of Daryl's arm around her waist, while he nuzzled her shoulder, that she felt like maybe she was going to be okay again. So she took a deep breath, and then she let it out very slowly. Because she'd just realized that if part of the reason she was crying was from the physical stress of everything, that maybe it would be a good idea to get a little of that stress off her mind. And the best way to do that generally was to share your worries with someone who actually cared that you were having them.

And she finally had a person who cared.

So she took another breath . . . and then, "I keep having nightmares where you got bit today."

Her words were barely a whisper, and she knew that if Daryl had already started to drift off, that he wouldn't have heard them at all. But then she felt the hand on her stomach, slide over until he'd snagged her fingers.

He covered them over with his.

"They're just dreams, Peach," he whispered, "I'm right here," he squeezed her fingers, "and I'm just fine. And I know I was just saying a couple days ago we gotta plan for stuff to go wrong when I'm out but," he took a breath, "I realized today that I am gettin' real good at killing these things, so maybe you don't have to worry too much about me leaving you alone. Course I can't promise nothin' will ever happen, but I do believe I got better odds to go the distance than a lot of the other folks here. Besides that, I got things I need to show you how to do," he let out a heavy breath, "and that's just one more reason to not get dead anytime soon."

Feeling her eyes start to burn again, though at least now they were with happy tears, Carol shifted around so she could bury her face against Daryl's chest.

His hand immediately fell to her back.

"You're going to stay alive," she sniffled into his throat, "so you can teach me how to defend myself?"

"Not only for that," he answered with a murmur, and a brush of his fingertips down her spine, "but it is a part of it. Because when our town got overrun, and Merle and me got pushed out on the road, I started wonderin' what was the point of carrying on into all this darkness. But then," his voice started to thicken, "I met you that day in the woods, and I started to realize pretty quick after that, how finding you had been the point. The world hasn't sucked so much since then. So I just need to teach you and Sophia what I know, so that ya'll can stay safe," his voice faded off, "'cuz I don't wanna go back to being by myself."

Feeling a sob rising up in her throat, Carol quickly sucked in a breath and swallowed that sob back down again. Because the last thing they needed right then was for her to turn into a big blubbery mess over what Daryl had just said. Even if what he'd just said had probably touched her more than anything else anybody had ever said to her before. Really, she couldn't think of any response back to him that would mean even half as much. So instead of words, she just kissed his throat, and rubbed his chest as she pressed herself hard against him. Hard enough that she knew he could feel her whole body, just as well as she could feel his.

It was much too soon for sex, they hadn't even kissed yet, but she wanted to at least give him something.

And after she gave him what she did, she could feel Daryl freeze for just a second right before he let out a slow, tight, breath. Then he let the hand on her back, slide down until it was resting on the curve of her bottom.

He gave her butt a gentle pat.

After that he tipped his head down and brushed his lips against her skin.

"You do that again, you're gonna drive me crazy, baby," he whispered with a kiss to her temple, "so you best go back to sleep now, before I gotta get up and take a jog around the camp."

And she couldn't help letting out a little giggle then as she kissed his throat one more time.

"Good night Pookie."

"Yeah, yeah," he let out on a grunt as he gave her ass one more pat.

"Night."

/*/*/*/*/

The next day, after breakfast was done and Daryl had left to go on his morning hunt, Carol figured it was a good time to talk to Dale. Because even though last night she'd felt completely justified in asking Daryl to sleep in the trailer on a regular basis, with a clearer, less weepy, brain, she realized it would probably be polite to at least double check that point with Dale to make sure he didn't have any reservations about one of the Dixon brothers sharing his space. After all, he and Daryl had exchanged a few cross words on occasion. She rolled her eyes.

Like yesterday at breakfast, for instance.

So with the other ladies having gone down to the quarry to do the morning wash . . . Lori had banned her from helping out with any of the chores besides school teaching, until she could stand up without assistance and/or bracing herself on the chair . . . Carol set Sophia up at the kitchen table with that day's spelling sheet, and told her she wasn't to leave the trailer until she came back in to get her. Again, Carol wanted her daughter to stay well clear of Shane (Daryl wanted HER to stay well clear of Shane too), and at the moment Shane was out, alone, chopping wood over by the other fire pit. That axe was slamming down _hard_ though, so it seemed like he was in a real mood. But that was likely because it had been pretty obvious that Lori had been giving him a cold shoulder since, "the incident," yesterday morning. Whatever she'd said to him when he'd had his hand on his gun, had driven him out of camp until just before sundown last night. Then even after he'd returned it seemed like he'd been told to still keep his distance, because for the last two group meals, Lori and Carl had sat between the Harrison sisters, and Shane had sat off by himself, brooding. And as far as Carol had seen, neither Lori nor her son had given that man the time of day either. But really nobody had been talking to Shane much about anything.

That man had really burned a lot of bridges in just a blink of an eye.

Most everybody, herself included, was just really wary of him now, because if someone loses it once like that, for NO reason at all, they'll lose it again. Guaranteed. And part of Carol wanted to ask Lori how she was feeling, and what she was going to do, but given how all of this had been triggered by Shane's dislike of Daryl, it seemed like she and Lori were on opposite sides here, even though Lori herself had clearly been more upset about what had happened than anyone else. Her anger with Shane couldn't last though, Carol would bet money on that, if money was still a thing. Because for all intents, Shane was family to Lori and Carl, plus Lori just didn't have the skills to keep her and her son alive all on her own. Without Shane's protection, the two of them alone out in this new world would hardly be in much better shape than Carol and Sophia would be under the same circumstances. That was exactly why she'd stayed with Ed even after she knew he was trying to kill her. He'd been the devil she knew.

And she'd needed the devil's protection.

Probably the one thing in Shane's general favor though, was that even if he had been hiding a WICKED temper under there, unlike Ed, the former sheriff's deputy had never come across as the type to raise a hand against a woman or a child. Quite the opposite really. The thing was though, as she carefully stepped down from the trailer, and started slowly heading down the small hill to talk to Dale filling his cup with what she knew was the acorn tea Daryl had taught the ladies how to brew, Carol already understood that you just never could tell what someone would do if they were really pushed to the limit.

And they were all living on a razor's edge these days.

For now though, she just tried to push all those worries to the side as she came up on Dale's left. And when he turned to give her a wide smile, and hold out the pot of tea, saying this one had come out pretty good, she felt that ball of tension in her belly start to unwind. Because this was not the behavior of a man who was annoyed with her for inviting another companion into their sleeping quarters. Still, the conversation she'd planned to have, needed to be had anyway just so she could be sure there was no resentment hidden there that might bubble up later on.

If they were all together later on, that is.

So she while she took the cooling pot from his hand, and held it kind of protectively against her stomach . . . the warmth felt good with those cramps she was getting off and on . . . she just asked Dale flat out if he minded that Daryl had slept in the RV last night, and if _hadn't_ minded, then would it be okay if Daryl slept there on a regular to semi-regular basis.

To his credit, Dale's smile only dimmed slightly at the question before he asked her if they could sit and talk for a minute. Of course she said yes, even though that ball in her stomach was starting to tighten up again, because to her mind that should have been two simple Yes's or No's.

Not a point for discussion.

Which was why she was surprised when it turned out that Dale's first question after they sat down in the lawn chairs, was to ask her where she'd grown up. And then it was to see if she had any idea about what had happened to her family after the turn. Her answers were simple and honest, that she'd been raised in Louisville, and that both her parents and her sister had all passed on many years ago. What she didn't add to that, was how her daddy had drank himself to death two years after her mama had died of a lingering breast cancer, and that her daddy had ALSO continued to slap her mama around, all the way up to the day she died.

She'd even had a black eye in the coffin.

And Carol had made sure that the mortician didn't cover it up just so everyone could see what a bastard her daddy was. And her Uncle Joe, mama's brother, had ended up knocking her daddy flat out the parking lot after the services, so she'd felt like that had been a little bit of justice for her mama there at the end.

That was one part of the family drama. Then eight years ago this past June, her younger sister had slashed her wrists in the bathtub at the age of twenty-six, on the morning of her second wedding anniversary.

She'd married a bad man too.

So Carol told Dale the skimmed over versions of these personal tragedies in part because she knew that the questions were leading somewhere, but mostly she told him just because he was kind and she knew he actually did care. And when she finished telling him about Mary Jane's death . . . "unexpectedly," was how she'd put that one . . . he reached over and squeezed her hand as he whispered how sorry he was. For a moment after that he was quiet, and then he said that even though Daryl and he didn't always see eye to eye, that with the way he'd stepped up and dealt with Ed when nobody else had the guts to put a stop to him, that he'd demonstrated himself to be a good and decent man at heart. And that it was obvious how much he cared for her and Sophia. Of course Carol wanted to speak up then and say that she was actually happier with Daryl than she'd ever been in her life(!) . . . but that seemed like a little _too much_ to share.

Especially since she hadn't even told Daryl himself that yet!

So instead she just nodded slowly, waiting for Dale to finish saying whatever he wanted to say. And what that turned out to be, was that (just between the two of them), he thought Daryl had a lot of potential, and that she'd definitely already shown herself to be a good influence on him. Then Dale snorted a bit and said he'd noticed how Daryl had stopped cleaning his teeth with his knife, and he was pretty sure that was all her. That was when she couldn't help but chuckle as she admitted that she had told him it made her a little nervous when he did that.

One slip and he was going to cut his lips off.

Dale laughed hard at that one. It was after he'd sobered up that he reached over and squeezed her hand and told her that Daryl could move into the back with them if he wanted to.

It wouldn't bother him at all.

Carol had been so happy then that everything was falling together like she'd hoped, that she leaned over to give Dale an impulsive kiss on the cheek. As she pulled away she whispered, "thank you, thank you so much."

Then with Dale giving her a little push, and a, "oh, it's nothing Carol, really," she got back to her feet, and started up to the trailer again.

She was already halfway up the hill before she realized that she was still carrying the pot of acorn tea. But she didn't feel like hiking back down again . . . and they had two pots for hot drinks, the other one had the coffee . . . so she just took the tea with her into the trailer, and let herself fall onto the bench seat with a happy sigh.

The scuffed blue pot she set down on the table.

"Daryl's going to move in here with us, baby girl," she told Sophia then with a big smile, "Dale said it was okay."

Her daughter's whole face lit up then, in a way that Carol couldn't even remember it doing before. But she didn't say anything. She just let out a giggle, and clapped her hands over her head.

That made Carol laugh.

The rest of the day, that went pretty well too. The morning was quiet, which was how you wanted it when "noisy" meant "trouble." Then around eleven Daryl came back from his hunt with two rabbits, a squirrel, a handful of dandelions he said would be good in the rabbit stew, a few more bundles of fennel for her cramps . . . "the way you've been rubbing your belly I'm guessing you're about to get your woman time," was his adorable way of handing them over to her . . . and then lastly, he'd pulled out about three cups worth of wild mushrooms from his satchel. After he'd dumped them out on the plate, he had to hold his right hand up for Amy, and swear before God that he knew for a fact they weren't packed full of poison. Then he'd rolled his eyes, reached over to the pile of them on the white plastic plate, and threw one into his mouth.

"See," he grunted while he was chewing it up, "I ain't dead."

All of the other women had laughed then as Amy gave him a big grin and a light punch to his arm. He shot her back an amused eye roll, right before he sealed up his bag, and walked over to take Carol's hand for the trek up the hill.

Sophia raced on ahead with the pink speckled salamander he'd caught for her out in the forest.

It wasn't until they'd gotten into the RV, and Daryl had made Sophia's new (temporary) pet, "Samantha" she was calling her, set up in a little playpen made out of the empty potato chip box all the snack sized Lays had come in, that Carol had pulled him down back to tell him the good news about Dale saying he could move in with them.

For a second Daryl didn't seem too pleased to hear that, but then she realized that was because he thought she'd pushed the issue when he hadn't wanted the issue pushed. Once she'd assured him though that she hadn't been a nuisance about it, that all she'd done was just ask once, nicely, if it would be okay, and that then Dale and she had had a nice talk, before he'd told her at the end of it that it would be fine with him.

That was the whole exchange.

It still took another minute after that of Daryl biting his thumbnail as he stared down at her, before finally his eyes started to crinkle.

"Okay then," he whispered while reaching over to pull her up to her feet, "guess I'll get my bag."

Then he tipped his head down to nuzzle her cheek as he gave her a nice, warm, cuddly hug. Her own eyes crinkled then.

Because today he just smelled Daryl again.

And she let him hold her for a good couple minutes before she huffed out against his chest, "oh, you still need to clean the game, huh?"

"Ah shit yeah," he grumbled in response right before he lifted his head.

"I'll do that then I'll get my stuff. Though," his lip quirked up, "I'm guessing you probably don't want me bringing my dirty bedroll in here, is that right?"

She laughed.

"Please no," she chuckled, "if you leave that there in the tent for now, I'll wash it when I'm feeling better, then we can roll it up with mine."

"Hmm," Daryl hummed, as he slowly stepped back, "k, sounds good. And oh hey," he tipped his head towards the front, "would you remind the little one please that _Samantha_ is only visiting for a couple days before we gotta let her loose? I'm thinking that part went right over that child's head when I handed it to her."

The look on her face though when he'd told her to cup her hands together, how totally thrilled she'd been when he'd unbuttoned his shirt pocket and slipped that little critter out into her palms, that was something that was gonna stick with him.

A little thing like that just made her month.

And when Carol reached out to squeeze his fingers, as she promised him she'd drove that point home all evening, he gave her a quick wink.

Then he headed out to go gut their dinner.

/*/*/*/*/

The first night of Carol and Daryl officially cohabitating, was very, VERY nice. Because she waited up for him to get off from his shift, and when he came in through the dark and pulled off his boots and his weapons, they got to snuggle up just like the night before. This time though she wasn't crying like a mental person. And Daryl, he'd taken to rubbing her back for her, really gentle, because she'd said that made the stiff and achy bits feel better. He actually sat up and put her legs in his lap so he could massage them for her too. But then his hands moved a little too far up her thighs, and when he suddenly he froze as she started to giggle, they both realized that maybe the rubbing was going to have to have some restriction points for the time being. Carol joked that she'd make a list in the morning of where he could put his hands and when.

Even in the semi-dark she could tell Daryl's whole face turned bright red at that.

So she just cuddled him over to her chest, until finally he let out a heavy breath and pressed two feather soft kisses to her throat. The joke was definitely over then. And as he lifted his head, and their eyes caught in the slats of moonlight, she see in the way that his were glittering, exactly what he was thinking. That he wanted to kiss her again.

That time for real.

Instead of doing that though, he just reached over and gently brushed his thumb along the corner of her lip.

"Still got too many bruises here," he whispered, "so we'll wait until I know it won't hurt ya."

Of course her eyes started to fill again then because he was just so ridiculously sweet it made her chest ache. But instead of giving in to the tears like the night before, she just blinked them back as Daryl got them shifted around on the bunk again. Once they were settled . . . for now they were sticking with him against the wall as a regular sleeping position . . . he rested his chin on her shoulder, and kissed her ear.

"Night, Peach."

Her eyes crinkled as she reached up over her shoulder to touch his cheek.

"Night, Pookie."

It didn't take long for Carol to drift off. But then sometime later she was shocked awake by the sound of someone yelling, "DARYL! DARYL! WAKE UP!" along with feet stomping all across the overhead roof.

As her eyes snapped open, she could tell it was still dark outside, but before she could even begin to process what was happening, Daryl was already bolting over her body.

"Get your knife out!" He yelled half over his shoulder as he started bouncing on one foot to yank his boot on, "and get Sophia in the bathroom!" He reached for his other boot, "you keep a close watch on the door," he started hopping again, "keep it locked unless it's one of us trying to get in! If it's anybody else, or anybody that ain't breathing, you get in the bathroom with her and stay there 'til I get back!"

And with that he snatched up his knives from under the pillow, snagged his bow from the floor . . . and smashed through the divider.

Before he'd even cleared it he was already yelling at Dale to move his ass out the way.

Then she heard the door snapping back, and Dale was yelling to her that he was going with Daryl, but he was leaving the lantern on the table.

The door slammed shut.

So with her heart pounding in her chest, and now even more yelling now from the outside . . . "WALKERS!" was being screamed in a panic over and over now like she had to imagine they'd once screamed "INDIANS!" back on those wagon trains a hundred plus years ago . . . Carol snatched up her own knife from where she'd tucked it under her pillow hours before. And as she pulled herself up from the bed, using the divider handle as a lever, she was already reaching out to snag her crying daughter's fingers. Then she pulled her off the other bunk.

She started pulling her along the shadowy hall.

"Come on honey," she hissed half over her shoulder, even as she was ducking her head down, trying to see out the front windows, "like Daryl said, in the bathroom! You get in and hide in the shower!"

"But Mama," Sophia cried back while she stumbled along, barefoot in her shortie pajamas, "what are you gonna do?!"

"I'll be right here," she turned then stopping in front of the bathroom door, and whispering with a tight, slightly crazed smile that she knew probably looked crazier still in the bouncing light from the lantern in the front, "I'm just going to lock up and get my shoes on, then I'm going to keep an eye on the door to make sure our people can get in if they need to. But I need _you_ to stay hidden like Daryl and I said, okay? Because I can't focus on keeping us safe if I'm worrying about you."

It was hard trying to sound like she wasn't terrified herself, but somehow she seemed to manage a little bit of calm in her voice. It was faked of course, but it seemed to help her daughter.

And that was all that mattered.

So she leaned down and smacked a hard kiss on Sophia's forehead, before she gave her a shove into the bathroom.

"Lock it," she whispered as the door was falling shut. And from the rattle of the latch, she knew that her daughter immediately did as she was told. So Carol ran down to do the same for the front door before something tried to get in that shouldn't be there.

Once they were sealed up tight again, before she went back for her shoes, Carol yanked the curtain back to try to see what was happening, and where everyone was.

What she saw literally made her gasp.

There were walkers, at least a half dozen of them, stumbling out of the trees just down the hill by the pit. The only reason she could see them at all was from the bounce of the flashlights of the others running up.

Daryl had just stabbed a lady walker in the eye.

Then she saw the head of another rotting corpse explode a few feet further away. That had been a shot off the roof. From the voice yelling up there, warning Dale there was one coming up on his left, it sounded like T-Dog was on watch.

Which meant it had to have been after four, but still sometime before sun up.

Carol winced while she let the curtain fall down, as she thanked God that at least they hadn't been all sitting around the fire at breakfast when this had happened. The walkers would have been on top of them before they'd been able to scatter. Really it would have been just like the other night with her and Daryl.

Except ten times worse.

Still, as she turned and ran back to grab up her shoes, she knew that just because the group had some small element of control over the current situation . . . meaning they were running at the walkers, as opposed to the walkers just running straight at them . . . it didn't mean that this night couldn't still end in tragedy. All it took was one bite, and the number of walkers, to the number of group members able to _kill_ a walker, were pretty evenly matched right now.

Actually, when she started out to the front of the RV again, feeling a fine sweat begin to break out on the back of her neck, she realized that if anymore walkers came out of the woods, her people could easily be overrun.

And as she stopped and dropped down to the end of the bench to shove her left foot into her left Ked, suddenly there was a rattling of the door handle and then a pounding on the door itself.

She jumped up and raced over to check out the window, only to see what was clearly the outline of Lori and Carl there in the shadows under the awning.

Lori was yelling, "IT'S US, OPEN UP!"

Even as Carol was yelling for them to step back, she was scrambling to get the door unlocked. It was just as she gave it a hard shove, that out of the corner of her eye, behind the quickly moving door, she a walker stumbling right up on Lori.

Carol screamed.

* * *

 _A/N 2: I did say that events of this story, in terms of the safety of other characters, was going to be thrown onto its head, so an earlier walker attack on the group, MIGHT leave the group a little smaller than when we opened in canon :)_

 _Writing the beginning here, I was thinking about how they're really only been seen regularly hitting up private homes when they were truly desperate. I think it was pretty well implied that was the main method they used to survive most of the gap between seasons 2 and 3. Then again everyone was scavenging like that in season 4 when they were driven off the prison. I understand it's dangerous to hit up a house for all the reasons Carol covered here, and it's hit or miss on whether you'd find anything, but it still just seems like neighborhoods could be goldmines in these early days, with homes across the country having pantries full of cans and boxes as most everyone (who can afford to own a home) usually has. So basically I might have our AU version of them shown to be working this method more often than we saw otherwise._

 _To that point, that's why I had them discover all of those non-food items in that one house, because I just refuse to believe that NOBODY out there in all of America, had run off to the damn Costco when they realized the shit was hitting the fan. That's why over in This Is Now, I have people stocking up. I just refuse to accept that EVERYONE everywhere was a complete moron and made no effort to hunker in, when FearTWD established a canon timeline of a solid two weeks of weird stuff escalating on the news, before society fell apart. Beyond that though, I obviously couldn't just let them walk off with a king's ransom and expect to be able to keep it all. They got some tampons and Tylenol and soap. Maybe a few other things. And they didn't die, so we'll call that a win :)_

 _Anyway beyond that, Carol is NOT pregnant. Just clearing that up :) because I know that sometimes hormonal behavior is indicative to be a hint of babies on the horizon, but also sometimes hormonal behavior is just your hormones doing their thing. Occasionally they're annoying. We deal with it. I just didn't want anyone worrying she was carrying an Ed baby. I also could see Daryl kind of being matter of fact about her period rather than being all stereotypically squeamish. Because he's a nature guy and he's observant and knows that's how stuff works. So he'd just consider that to be her 'woman times' and he got her some fennel because he thought that might help with the cramps :)_

 _Shane! You can see I am letting a little of Crazy Shane slip out already. Because Crazy Shane was RIGHT there popping the SECOND that Rick showed up! It was like, "oh shit, you're alive! I love you, man, now I'm struggling not to point my rifle at your head!" Because it really was pretty much the next day after Rick got settled that Shane started battling for control of what was going to happen next. He just could not take any push against his authority, or his perceived 'dibs' with Lori and Carl because he felt that he'd kept them alive that long so he kind of 'owned them' from that point. So I think, pre Rick showing up, if Daryl (who in canon Shane considered a meth head) had started to get a little respect, and have some genuine influence with the group, not to mention him actually spending time bonding with Carl, that would be enough for Crazy Shane to start peeking out. And he was always a passive aggressive ass with that grin going on with the comments, so I could just see him doing it here as a way to take a shot at Daryl, hoping HE would be the one to lose his shit and make an ass out of himself in front of the group. That way he'd be put back in where Shane felt his place should be…on the bottom of the totem pole. Instead it backfired and Daryl was the one that said just the right thing to get under Shane's skin to make him flip. And now the group, plus most importantly Lori and Carl, got a peak at Crazy Shane, so we'll see how that affects everything else playing out in their little step family and Shane's general influence._

 _If you noticed I let Daryl show Andrea how to clean her gun. That's because I thought it was pretty ridiculous that the demonstration Shane was giving her in the RV, in season TWO, 'appeared' to be the first time anyone had shown her how to take her gun apart and put it back together. The group had been together a solid two to three weeks at that point, and nobody had bothered to show her how to do that yet? At that point nobody outside of the Dixon brothers really knew how to take down a walker with a knife, so the guns were the ONLY means they had to stay alive, which meant that it would have been in everyone's best interest for all of those guns to be kept clean and in good working order. And with Shane being a defacto camp leader, and a freaking firearms INSTRUCTOR(!), that should have been like point one for him of, "okay, this is what you all need to be doing." Again, just a lot of basic logic stuff from the early days of the show falls apart when you think about it for even a second. Not trying to totally rag on those days because the first two seasons did do most of their character development a MILLION times better than some of the later 'character bloated' seasons. Well, of course from our previously covered 'underlying thread of misogyny in the majority of the women being written with a slant of bitchy/whiny/whorey' that is :)_

 _Beyond that, I know we had a lot of flashback narrative but I really wanted to move the story forward timeline wise, and I needed some kind of narrative for that to happen and the idea of Carol talking herself back from a nightmare worked out well to go through her recap of those days and how Daryl had ended up in her bed that night. Because I wanted those to be intimacy steps for them, but not ones that we had to drag waaaaaay out :) I also wanted Carol's body to have healed up enough that she could hobble herself around, but the type of injuries were not realistic (except on a TV show) to be ones that your body would just heal up from with a day's rest. Ed kicked the shit out of her with the intent of causing damage to her internal organs. She nearly collapsed dragging herself across the field, because she would still be in a hospital right now if there were any left. So even if she's pushing herself, I am going to have her fully heal up at something approximating the appropriate rate, which is exactly why Time Jumps were invented!_

 _Speaking back to the intimacy, the first time she saw his scars. I thought this was a different way to work that moment in for them, and for them to have to deal with it, before Daryl was expecting her to see him exposed that way. So that became another moment to bond them at a more accelerated rate than a couple would necessarily be after only knowing each other for a couple weeks._

 _Lastly, this chapter, as long as it is, didn't cover everything I'd planned, and had actually already drafted. Such as Rick's arrival and the aftermath. I'm going to bounce back to my other stories because I'm trying not to let anything languish too long (yes I know too late! :)), but with so much of the next draft here really already done down to the detail bits, I think with another chunk of narrative, we can keep our fingers crossed that it will be weeks as opposed to months, before we're back here again._

 _And as always, thanks all for your support in sticking with me through these gaps!_


	11. Killing My Dead Husband

**Author's Note** : Direct pickup. 'Tis long.

* * *

 **Killing My Dead Husband**

The scream was enough warning for Lori to give Carl a hard shove to the ground, even while she was spinning around to bring her gun up.

The walker was only maybe two feet away at that point, so when she fired, there was no chance at all of missing those teeth chomping right at her. And fortunately for ALL of their sakes, Carol already knew from stories told around the laundry piles, that Lori's husband had taught her how to actually shoot STRAIGHT years ago. So all it took from her was one bullet, and those putrefied brains splattered into the dirt.

Hallelujah to that.

Then Lori was spinning back around, yanking her son up by the arm while she was screaming, "GET INSIDE, BABY!"

By that point Carol was running more on instinct rather than any consciousness of thought. So even though Daryl might have told her (more than once now) to always keep her knife tight in hand, she ended up just dropping it to the cheap linoleum, and reaching out to grab the small body being shoved towards her. And while she was pulling that body through the doorway, Lori was giving Carl a shove from the other side.

It was at that moment, from off in the distance, Carol heard Daryl yell.

"LORI, GET DOWN!"

Of course that meant there was another walker coming straight at them. So Carol threw herself over Carl's body inside the trailer, even while she saw that Lori was outside throwing herself down into the dirt. A split second later that second walker fell right on top of her.

From the lamplight spilling out the door, Carol could easily see there was an arrow sticking out of its rotted head.

Then Lori was scrambling to get out from under with a roll and a backfooted kick with her boot . . . she jumped to her feet. Even before she was all the way up, Carol had jumped up herself, (ignoring the screaming of those still healing muscles in her back) as she pulled the shaking Carl up with her, to get them both out of the way of his mama. So that way when Lori bounced through the doorway, all she had to do was reach back and grab the door handle.

It wasn't until she'd gotten them locked in, that she spun around and finally spoke again.

"JESUS CHRIST!"

Those were the first words out of her mouth.

"Are, are you okay?!" Carol stammered back as she blinked and straightened up, her fingertips pressing into Carl's shoulder, "that other one was literally on TOP of you!"

Lori gave a sharp nod while she moved to shove her gun into her back waistband.

"Yeah it was," she breathed out as she reached down to pull her son into her arms, "but at least it was dead by then. Thank God for Daryl."

"Yeah," Carol bit her lip, "thank God."

Now if only God would keep him safe too. And though she wanted to push past Lori to go over and stare out the window to try and keep an eye on him, she knew that would be stupid. Because there wasn't enough light down where the others were still fighting to see well enough to help him watch his back. Which meant that squinting into the moving darkness wouldn't do anything but cause her to feel more panic and stress than she already did, and she ALREADY felt like she was on the verge of a heart attack! So instead she just made herself take a breath . . . it was slow and deep (and slightly pained) on both the inhale and the exhale . . . as she turned to snatch up her knife from the floor.

She turned to face Lori.

"Sophia's locked in the bathroom," she breathed out slowly, while tipping her head to the side, "because Daryl thought that would be the safest place for her so," she finished with a shrug, "you might want to send Carl in there too, just to uh . . ."

And she kind of trailed off, because she still really wasn't in the habit of telling other people what to do. Even if all she was doing was passing along good advice. Still, Lori got what she was saying. Because she quickly blinked and nodded.

It was clear she was still trying to catch her breath.

"Yeah," she murmured while giving her boy a pat on the back, "yeah, that's a good idea. Honey," she leaned down then to speak to Carl, "I need you to go in and stay with Sophia in the bathroom until this is all done."

From their experiences to date, Carol was expecting Lori's son . . . who was basically a nice boy but often a bit too 'headstrong' for Carol's taste . . . to immediately make an argument that he should be allowed to stay out in the mix of things. But this time it was obvious that he'd actually been rattled enough by what had happened at the door, to simply do as he was told for once. So with a faint mumble of, "yes, ma'am," he moved away from his mother, shuffling through the small living space until he'd reached the hallway. And as he knocked on the bathroom door, Carol called out softly, "Sophia, let Carl inside so he can sit with you."

A second later there was a click right before the door started to fold back.

After Carl had disappeared into that small, shadowy, space, the _door flattened out, and the_ click came again. That's when Carol finally let out her breath and turned around to see Lori pulling back the curtains that Carol herself had been peeking through a few minutes earlier.

"Can you see anything?" She asked worriedly, but Lori shook her head.

"Not really," her friend answered with a heavy sigh, "not when it's so dark. Mostly what you get is just the sense of movement and a few glimpses from the flashlights." She turned back, letting the curtain fall with a faint, tight, smile.

"If it helps, I did catch a glint of Daryl's bow swinging around, so at least he seems okay."

Carol's eyes crinkled, though her mouth remained tight.

"That does help," she whispered, "thank you."

For a moment then she considered asking Lori if she was worried about Shane, but it only took a second for her to realize that that level of 'polite' inquiry wasn't a conversation she was interested in stepping into. It clearly wasn't the time for the larger discussion about Shane's (disturbing) behavior in general, and towards Daryl in particular, so for now it was still easier to just ignore that elephant.

So instead, after she'd turned down the wattage on the lantern . . . even now they needed to be mindful of wasting the batteries . . . the two women settled in by leaning against the table (Carol) and the front driver's seat (Lori), waiting for the others to return. And though it felt like hours were passing, Carol knew that the perception of time slipping by was simply because the shadows were changing.

The sun was coming up.

It was slow, but still, it was that time of day where "pitch" rotated through other shades of black. So by the time Daryl returned to the trailer, the full darkness had morphed to a pale grey light.

One that was just starting to roll in around the gaps in the curtains.

Which was how Carol ended up spotting Daryl through the window, a split second before he was able to knock on the door. So as he was calling out, "Peach, it's me," she was already fumbling to get the lock turned.

A second later the door was pulling back, and as she quickly moved out of his way, Daryl stepped up and into their little kitchen. For what Carol could see at first, wide eyed, glance, though he was slightly breathless, fairly sweaty, and had a few smudges of guck on him, her man seemed to be physically okay.

Still, and despite the guck, she bolted forward and threw her arms around his neck.

"Are you all right?!" She hissed worriedly into his ear.

His arm came up to wrap around her shoulders . . . he gave her a gentle squeeze.

"Yeah, baby," he took a breath, "I'm fine. Everybody's fine, except for um," he pulled his head back to give her a look, "Ed. He's dead."

Apparently seeing how her eyes had widened at that news, he continued on then in a quieter tone.

"The walkers tore him up real good. It's a hell of a mess down there."

For a moment Carol just stared up at Daryl with what she knew had to be a blank expression, because that's pretty much all her brain was too. Blank. Finally though, she blinked and looked down to the floor.

"Well, that's that then," she murmured, "it's over."

"You okay?"

The question came not from the man holding her, but from Lori just as her slim fingers brushed over Carol's shoulder. So Carol turned to give her friend a faint, tight, smile.

She hoped it didn't look as crazy as the one she'd given Sophia.

"Yeah," she nodded slowly, even while she was fumbling to take Daryl's hand, "yeah, I'm good. He's in hell and Sophia and I," her voice started to thicken, "we made it. We live in a world where Ed doesn't exist anymore." Then she kind of laughed . . . though there were tears in it.

"I never thought I'd see the day!"

Realizing then from how Daryl was squeezing her hand, while Lori was squeezing her shoulder, that maybe a slight bit of what had sounded to them like "hysteria" might have been creeping into her tone, Carol quickly cleared her throat and shot first Daryl, then Lori, a sharp nod. She let out a slow breath.

"I know I sound like I'm on the verge of breaking down or something," she continued on in a steadier tone, "but really, I'm all right. It just kind of hit me," she spun her wrist, "you know, the relief of it." She looked back up to Daryl again, "of course in my head I knew that with those injuries he wouldn't last the week anyway, but expecting something to happen, and actually _having_ it happen, aren't the same thing. And God forgive me," she shook her head, "but I'm actually so glad that not only has he been suffering for days, but then that he still died in the worst way imaginable." She bit her lip.

"It's the least of what he deserved."

Of course it was a cold, horribly un-Christian thought to be happy about anyone dying that way, but she figured that God probably wouldn't hold that one against her. Not after everything she and Sophia had gone through with Ed. Not only the years and _years_ of abuse, but just for what he'd done to them in that week ALONE! He'd tried to rape his own child, and then kill her for stopping it.

So yeah . . . her jaw clenched . . . being eaten alive was as close to true justice as he was ever going to get for those crimes.

Though suddenly noticing how Daryl was gnawing on his lip, Carol realized that maybe there was something else about how Ed had died that she needed to know. And just when she was about to ask him the question, that's when she realized what it was that he hadn't mentioned yet.

Whether or not the body had turned.

So she braced herself for the answer.

"Does he still need to be put down?"

Her words came out as barely a whisper, and Daryl's response was a faint wince and a tip of his head.

"Yeah," his nose twitched, "the thing is though, he's already turned. It was one of those real fast ones. 'Cuz I heard him down there makin' these screechy sounds when they first started tearing into him, and by the time we got things cleared in the main part of the camp, and I ran across the field, he was definitely dead. I mean there was a walker eating his leg and another face deep in his belly, so if he'd had a speck of life left in him he'd still have been screeching. Then while I was still putting down the second walker, Glenn showed up, and he was the one that noticed Ed was already starting to twitch. He's full on moving now, but uh, well," and that's when Daryl winced again, "I didn't put him down right off 'cuz it seemed kind of like family business, so I was thinking maybe you might want to do yourself?"

"Me?" Carol repeated the question softly, "put him down? Oh," her hand came up to her mouth as she continued on in a breathy, slightly panicked, tone, "oh, I hadn't thought about that."

"It's okay, Peach," Daryl cut back quickly, and with a sharp shake of his head, "you don't gotta do it just because I brought it up. I'll go take care of it right now if you want me to. It's just, I was thinking," he tipped his head slightly, "if it was _me_ who had the history with him _,_ that I'd at least want somebody to ask me first if I wanted to finish it myself. And," he shrugged, "he was already tied to the tree and the rope's still hooked up around what's left of him so he ain't going nowhere. But like I said," his brow darkened considerably then, "it's a REAL shit mess now, so maybe you just don't want to see that level of gruesome. Honestly, it's the worst thing I've probably ever seen myself, and I ain't saying that to scare you off, I just want you to understand _what_ you'd be walking into if you do go down there. But um," he cleared his throat, "anyway, he's the last walker left in the camp, so Dale and Glenn are watching him until I get back. I told them to give me a few minutes to talk to you, so," he let out a heavy sigh, "it's your call now, baby. Whatever you want to do."

After hearing everything Daryl had to say about the condition of Ed's body, and the nightmare she'd be walking into, Carol looked down and took a deep breath.

Then she held it for a second.

At that moment, some women in her position might have been thinking back on the few good days of their marriages. And those women, they might have been feeling something like sadness over such horrible ends for the men they'd once loved.

Not her though.

Not on either point.

No, as Carol slowly let out that breath she'd taken, the only memories she was thinking back on were bad ones. Like the first time Ed had slapped her across the face. Then the first bone he broke. The first shoulder he dislocated . . . then the first time he smacked their baby girl for spilling her juice.

She was two.

Finally Carol flashed on that moment last week when she'd yanked open the flap on the tent, and had seen that filthy pig straddling her baby. That was a memory that would never leave her, or her daughter.

They'd carry it to their graves.

And realizing that, how that damage Ed had done was _etched_ on them, well, that was when Carol's watery eyes snapped back up to Daryl's.

She'd made her decision.

"I'll do it," she announced with a sharp nod, "I want to do it. I want to be the one to put him down."

Darryl's lip quirked up . . . though the smile was all grief.

"I was hoping you'd say that," he answered softly, "because I do think it's what you need."

"Yeah."

Hearing Lori's voice cut in from behind them, Carol turned her head to look at the pretty brunette.

"I agree with Daryl," her friend continued with a nod, "I think you do need to do it. And for what it's worth, if it was me, I'd want to do it too. Because at least this way," her lips twisted in a sad smile, "you get to take back that power from him."

"Exactly," Carol swallowed, "that's what I was thinking too. It all ends on my terms, and by my hand. But also," her jaw twitched, "I just need to see that it's done and he's gone for good. So uh," she blinked and gestured towards the bathroom door, "if you can just please keep an eye on Sophia for a few minutes while we take care of this? I'll tell her what happened when I get back."

"Of course," Lori confirmed with a faint smile and sharp nod, "and I'll uh," she bit her lip, "well, I'll make sure Shane stays out of here too, because I know you two aren't comfortable with him being around her right now."

Again, Carol knew the Shane conversation needed to be had soon . . . it was a small camp and none of them had plans to leave it anytime soon . . . this clearly wasn't the time to get into it. Still, for the sake of her friend who she knew was hurting in her own way over that man's behavior, Carol reached out and gave Lori's fingers a quick squeeze.

"We'll talk about that later," she whispered. "But for now," her hand fell from Lori's as she turned back to Daryl, and pulled her knife out of the new sheath hanging from her old belt, "I'm ready."

"Okay but uh," Daryl let out a slow sigh as he leaned over to pick up a dishrag from the counter, "one thing." Then his eyes snapped back to hers as he held out the cloth.

"You're gonna need this."

/*/*/*/*/

The act of putting down Ed's living corpse was a hell of a thing.

Not that Carol felt any grief at stabbing her daughter's father in the head . . . though she did cry when she did it, the tears had nothing to do with him . . . it was more that the actual _state_ of his body truly was so horrendous, that she nearly threw up just for looking at him. Daryl had tried to prepare her, but there really was no preparation. Because when he'd said that those walkers had ripped him apart, he literally meant that they'd RIPPED him apart! Ed's whole lower jaw was missing from his face, his right leg was missing all the flesh on the calf, his left arm was yanked clean from the socket and the bloody, gnawed on remains of it were lying in a pile of leaves half behind the tree. Then his guts, dear God, his bloody organs were just spilled out EVERYWHERE! Some of them had clearly been chewed on. Daryl had been right.

It was the worst thing she'd ever seen in her life.

And even with the towel he had told her to hold tight over her nose and mouth, the smells rising up from that gaping tear in Ed's intestines were so bad, her stomach was constantly flip flopping.

It didn't help that while they were walking down there, Carol had seen the pool of vomit that Glenn had left on the ground. Of course he couldn't stop apologizing for throwing up, but she just waved him off. Because he was a good kid, and brave too, it was just that he was a lot younger than the other men, so he didn't always hold his composure as well. And really Dale (the oldest of them all) was looking even greener under the rag he was holding up to his face, than she was feeling under hers.

So clearly none of them were doing that well with the sights and smells there.

And then with the way that not quite dead Ed, was still trying to STAND UP with all of those parts eaten up or torn away, and how even without a jaw he was able to make these growling, gurgling noises out of his windpipe, well that just added a whole OTHER layer of insanity to the scene!

Somehow though, with Daryl's help maneuvering around the mess of guts and flies and torn flesh, and his arm steadying her around the waist when she leaned over, Carol got the job done. She stabbed that blade straight into the side of her _ex-_ husband's ear, just like she had to that walker a few nights earlier. And for that previous experience, she couldn't have been more grateful, because at least this time she knew what she was doing, and how to get it done.

A sob still slipped out of her when she did it though.

And she also might have slumped a bit against Daryl's side too, but he was holding her so tight anyway, it was hard to say if that part might have been her imagination. Either way, after she'd jammed the knife in, whatever was left of Ed just . . . stopped. The noise, the twitching, all of it was over. So she slowly pulled the blade back out and Daryl quickly took it from her hand to wipe the gore off on the side of the tree.

After that, he handed her the knife again, and through the muffled tones of his own nose and mouth covered over with his bandana, he murmured to Glenn that the body was ready for the pile now.

To that, Glenn nodded and said Jim was actually digging the hole.

Daryl let out a grunt at that one but really, somebody had to dig the hole and just because Jim had shown himself to be a real creep too, that was no reason to turn down a grave. So with Carol sniffling back the tears that she had no desire to be shedding over a man she'd been wishing dead for a good third of her life, and with Daryl's arm still tight around her waist to keep her walking steady, the two of them started back to the trailer.

And even though there was work to be done burning those walkers up . . . a little over a dozen had wandered in by Daryl's estimate . . . he stayed there with her while she took Sophia down into their little room in the RV and told her girl that her bastard daddy was finally gone. And though she cried a little too, Carol didn't really see her daughter's tears as coming from any actual grief anymore than her own were. They were more tears of relief.

It was a day that had seemed like it would never come.

Now that it had though, Carol's focus was mostly just on how her daughter would be able to heal from there. Even if it wasn't possible for her to ever forget what Ed had done to her, at least now, with him gone, the memories could start to fade. And if Sophia was _really_ lucky, maybe someday she'd forget her daddy's face.

God willing anyway.

In the meantime though, once she'd assured Daryl that neither of them were on the edge of a breakdown . . . not a chance on Carol's side, and she felt the odds were VERY slim on Sophia's side . . . he gave them each a hug and a kiss on the top of the head, right before he promised that he'd be back as soon as he could. Then he went off to go help with the main job left for the day.

Disposing of those walkers.

With the number of them that had stumbled into camp, and how long it actually took to both burn up, and break down, all the parts of a human body into something close to ash, that took awhile. Hours in fact. And with that awful smell of burning flesh in the air, obviously nobody had any real appetite, but still, people needed to keep their strength up even if they weren't hungry. Food was just fuel now to keep their bodies running.

Nothing more.

If it had still been a world where they had 'options' for meals, it would have been a dry toast and tea kind of day. As it was though, neither of those things existed in what was left of their meager pantry of food. So what they ended up with instead was a pot of very weak coffee made from yesterday's grounds, and a box of dry, sticky from the heat, Honey Nut Cheerios.

The latter being one of the random finds they'd managed to salvage from the last ill fated food run.

The Cheerios they rationed out with a plastic, quarter cup measuring scoop that Carol found in the overhead cabinet of the RV. And though it wasn't much food, it was at least something everybody could keep down with a churning stomach.

And even though the walker cleanup had started just after dawn, it was still nearly noon by the time all the bodies had been gathered up, the heads smashed, and the remains burned off in the pit that the men had dug a little further down the hill. The burn pit was well within the boundary of what they'd consider the camp . . . certainly within clear sight of the RV perch . . . but it was enough of a distance from what they thought of as their main perimeter, that nobody had to feel like they were living in a literal graveyard.

At least they wouldn't once the winds picked up and the smell of dead flesh faded off.

But after all that horribleness had been dealt with, the day started to go back to some kind of ordinary. Ordinary for them at least. First though, the men took turns doing a quick rinse under the makeshift shower to get all of the guts and ash off of them. And once Daryl had taken his turn and put on the clean clothes Carol had left out for him on one of the shrubs, he came over to the RV where she was sitting (and sweating) under the awning with Sophia and Carl, as they all went over that day's spelling words. It wasn't something that any of them felt like doing, but it was important for the children to keep some kind of normality in their routine.

Normality had become especially important on particularly insane days like these.

They took a small break for Daryl's visit though. While Carl ran down to the fire pit to see if he could get a snack from his mother . . . Lori was on lunch duty that day, though again there was little food to eat . . . Sophia immediately latched herself onto Daryl's side. So while he had one arm wrapped around her slim shoulders, that's when he told Carol that he was heading out into the woods to see if he could find some fresh game and wild herbs for dinner.

He was hoping to find enough that they could make a stew to fill some bellies up.

After he told her that, and she gave him a little smile, he added on in a hushed voice for her to make sure that she and Sophia stayed close to the RV for the rest of the day, just to be safe. Apparently seeing though how that wasn't an instruction that made Carol feel very comfortable with their actual LEVEL of safety . . . because GOD, what ELSE was he picturing could happen(!) . . . he then quickly kissed her cheek and whispered in her ear, "only being cautious Peach, 'cuz we fired off a lot of shots and sound carries. But really, it's been a good six hours already, so most likely anything that might've heard that noise and was interested in looking into it, would've got here by now."

His reasoning seemed sound, both for being cautious, and for _cautiously_ assuming that the rest of the day would pass without another attack, which pushed back her fears some. So after she gave him a tight hug and told him to be careful, he picked up his bow and headed off into the trees.

Carol watched the scrub moving for a second, before she let her eyes fall down to her daughter, who she discovered was doing the same thing.

Watching their protector walk away.

"Come on sweetie," she murmured while reaching out to catch Sophia's fingers, "let's go hang out in the trailer until he gets back."

Cautious is as cautious does, and the safest place to be really was inside. In fact, even when Lori called out that lunch was ready, Carol still opted to eat in there at the table where she and Sophia had been continuing their lessons. That wasn't even so much for the safety factor . . . though that was a big part of it . . . but also just for the weird way that everybody outside of Lori (and Carl) had been acting around her and Sophia all morning.

It was like the others understood enough to know not to express any "sympathy" over Ed's death, but beyond that, collectively, they seemed to be at kind of a loss about what, if anything, they should say to them at all.

Because all morning, conversations had stuttered out, or faces had frozen up like a deer in headlights, whenever anyone came within ten feet of her. So when Lori came up to hand off their lunch . . . dry Cheerios again, though that time with a side of turkey jerky and acorn tea . . . Carol decided to pull her friend down to the bedroom (out of earshot of Sophia) and asked her to please tell the others that she and her daughter would be spending the rest of the day in the trailer. So if anyone was feeling the need to talk about Ed's death, or their whole personal situation in general, that she'd appreciate it if they would get all it out of their systems this afternoon so she wouldn't have to deal with the weird looks and awkward silences, again tomorrow. Lori's lips pursed with some sympathetic aggravation then right before she promised that she'd get, quote, "those numbskulls" (a term that made Carol smile) all in line so that she and Sophia wouldn't be dealing with any nonsense in the morning. And after Carol had thanked her for the support, (and the lunch) she was expecting Lori to head back outside again. Instead though, she gave a quick glance over her shoulder, down to where Sophia was eating . . . it seemed like she was making sure that nobody had slipped into the trailer while they were talking . . . before she dropped down onto the far edge of Carol and Daryl's bunk. And when she bit her lip and scrunched her nose as her fingertips ghosted over the embroidered wings on Daryl's leather vest, Carol knew that there was something serious on her friend's mind.

So she took a seat too.

For a moment the quiet stretched out while the two women just looked at one another. Finally though, Lori took a deep breath and leaned forward.

"If I wanted to get away from Shane," she whispered, "do you think that Daryl would let me and Carl hitch up with you guys when the camp disbands?"

Even though Carol had some idea that maybe Lori was there to talk about Shane, still, that was somehow the last thing that she'd expected her to say. And apparently Lori saw how Carol's eyes had turned into saucers . . . she'd just had no idea things between them were going that far off the rails . . . because she quickly added on with an embarrassed flutter of her hands, that she just needed to make sure they'd have a safety net, because right now she didn't know what she was going to do. And then she winced and her eyes filled. The tears were gone with another blink, but still, suddenly Carol felt a horrible pang of empathy and understanding. Because she'd known that look on Lori's face. How could she not?

She'd seen it enough times in the early days of her marriage.

It was a mixture of fear and panic bubbling beneath the public mask. It was the look of a woman who was tethered to a man that she had started to fear. And feeling her own eyes well up in sympathy, Carol's fingers curled into a loose fist as she asked Lori flat out if she thought Shane might hurt her or Carl. It took a second, but after chewing on her lip, and scrunching her brow, she slowly twisted her jaw.

"Yes, and no," she murmured with another mindful check over her shoulder for eavesdroppers, "I don't _think_ that he would, but," and then her eyes started to fill again, "it just feels like now there's a question mark on the end of that answer. A week ago I would have said flat out that it could never happen, that all he wanted to do was to protect us. But," and then her jaw twisted again, "after seeing that crazy look on his face the other morning, and the way he grabbed for his gun just because Daryl _embarrassed_ him," she swallowed, "that really frightened me. That was a person I'd never seen before, and now I wonder if maybe there are things about him that I've missed. I mean," her brow scrunched then, "Rick had mentioned that Shane had gotten a couple of reprimands for losing his temper on the job, and there had been one excessive force incident that I'd heard a rumor about from one of the other deputies wives, and I knew he got suspended for that one. But Rick wouldn't tell me the details even when I asked. Still, up until the day I, I," her voice thickened at her stammer, " _lost_ him, my husband definitely trusted his partner. They'd been friends since they were kids, and on the job together for over a decade. So," she sniffled, "it's like part of me feels I should just go with Rick's gut even if Rick isn't here anymore."

That's when Lori stopped, but Carol knew that the conversation wasn't done. So she reached over and took her friend's hand.

"I never knew your husband," Carol said softly, "but it sounds like he was a good man. And maybe Shane, the Shane that Rick knew, maybe he was a good man too. But," she shook her head, "things _are_ different now, Lori. Ed was abusive for years but it wasn't until everything began to fall apart, that I truly saw the evil in him. And I'm obviously not saying that's what's in Shane just based on his behavior this week. But what I _will_ say," she swallowed, "is that he scares me. I don't trust him anymore. Because what he did the other day, like you said, that crazy look on his face," she let out a slow breath, "that very much reminded me of Ed."

"Yeah," Lori cut in with a grim nod, "it reminded me of Ed too and that's what's been running around in my head. One day I saw you two by your tent early in the morning. You said something I couldn't hear, and he grabbed your arm and he had that same crazy look." She blinked and swallowed, "I never thought I'd see such a thing on Shane because he's always been good to my family. I considered him a friend."

A faint flush crossed her face before she continued softly.

"And I guess you probably know that he's been more than a friend recently. So I want to tell myself that crazy look doesn't matter because it wasn't _directed_ at me. At the same time though," she took a breath, "I know that it does matter, because whatever it is that's made him act like that, is a thing that's _in him,_ you know? Something in him isn't right. And Carl was so scared of him that morning. I mean REALLY scared, and even though Shane does at least seem remorseful about that, he doesn't see that he did anything wrong otherwise. When I told him later that night that he'd been totally out of line and asked what the hell had been thinking, he got really defensive and snarked about me being," she waved her hand, "buddies now with the meth head and what kind of a role model did I think that was for Carl. And of course I told him that Daryl _wasn't_ a meth head, and that it was a shitty thing to say that he was. And besides that he was changing the subject because my issue was with how HE had flipped out and almost pulled a gun on a man for no reason and if we were talking role model behavior for Carl, that clearly wasn't it. And me saying that flat out just seemed to make it all a lot worse. I mean his jaw set like granite and then he was saying that after everything he'd done for me and Carl that he couldn't believe that I was picking Daryl's side over his. And yeah," she rolled her eyes, "I was technically, but it just felt very manipulative the way he said it. Like _I_ was supposed to feel guilty, when HE was clearly and objectively the one who was completely in the wrong. It was just so weird, and again, I'd never seen him act like that before. So I just left it that I wasn't happy with him right now and I told him that he was acting very odd, and I asked him to stay away from me and Carl until I was ready to talk again. Since then he's been sleeping outside the tent a few yards away and he's pretty much left us alone in the daytime. The thing is though," and Lori's lipped pursed then, "even though he is setting off all these little alarm bells in my head, I _need_ him and he knows that. Because Christ, I can't keep Carl alive all on my own. Not in this new world. And we've got no one else, so I don't really feel like I have a lot of options here outside of just letting it go and," her voice faded, "crossing my fingers that I'm not handcuffing us to a time bomb."

Feeling another sympathy stab of pain in her chest, because God knew she was the ONE woman in that camp who understood about being handcuffed to a time bomb(!), Carol stood up and moved over to catch Lori's hands. And when she saw her friend wince and swallow, Carol gave her a sad smile.

"You do have options," she whispered, "and if you don't want to stay with him you don't have to. Because the way you're describing his behavior, and your feelings about it, is setting off a lot of bells for me too. Ed hid his temper from me for months, and even after the first time I saw it slip out when somebody cut him off in traffic, I still never thought for an instant that he'd ever direct that rage at me. But he did, and then he said he was sorry for scaring me, and then later for hurting me, and I forgave him over and over for months while we kept repeating that loop. And he stopped apologizing for any of it long before Sophia came along. I was trapped by then. So trust me," she leaned back to look her friend in the eyes, "if your _gut_ is telling you something's not right with him, you listen to it. Because you know that with the stress everyone's under now, that kind of anger he's got bubbling under there is only going to get worse. So," she took a breath, "I'll talk to Daryl and explain what's happening. But I know if you want to come with us, that he'll let you. I mean," she shrugged, "at least you can shoot, so you're more of an asset right now than am. And you guys get along okay, right?"

"Yeah," Lori nodded, "we do. We're sort of friends in a way, I guess. I don't get along so great with Merle, but," her eyes crinkled faintly, "I do at least get along better with him than he does with Andrea."

"Or Andrea does with Daryl," Carol cut back with a faint grin. And Lori laughed.

"Right, that too!"

The laughter cut the remaining tension from the moment. And when it faded, Lori gave her a sad smile.

"I hope you know that I really hated having to come to you with this," she whispered, "but when I considered the group, I knew that you were the only one who would understand the situation."

"I do understand," Carol answered with a heavy sigh, "and I'll make sure that Daryl understands too. It'll be okay."

Really, it probably wouldn't take anything more than simply asking the question, " _can Lori and Carl come with us when we go_?" and he'd say yes, because Daryl liked Lori, and he did not trust Shane. So he wouldn't want her and Carl to get stuck in a potentially dangerous situation with their supposed protector, anymore than he'd wanted her and Sophia to be stuck with Ed. And it wasn't like the other two would be this great burden. Carl was a scrapper and Lori wasn't a helpless female. She was strong and smart, and she had her own gun, plus a few boxes of ammunition. She just needed a little help watching her back, was all.

These days everyone did.

So as the two women came back to their feet, they left it that Carol would talk to Daryl the next day . . . too much had already happened that day to want to get into anything else . . . and then she'd give Lori the nod once it was set. And in the meantime, Lori was just going to leave things status quo with Shane, in that basically she was going to see if simply continuing to keep her distance (hers and Carl's) was enough for him to start to get that things had changed between them in a more fundamental way. Because God knew she wasn't looking to trigger any kind of big fight or confrontation. Not now with that temper she'd seen. So she was hoping that the choice to keep that physical separation from him would speak for itself.

Carol hoped so too.

And by nightfall all Carol wanted to do was to cuddle up with Daryl and put everything else, and all of these new worries about Shane, far behind her. Unfortunately though, even a simple cuddle was asking for too much. Because over the group dinner of dandelion, wild mushroom, and squirrel stew (all stew ingredients provided by Daryl of course) it had been decided that to be safe . . . as in there were _still_ some lingering concerns about other walkers perhaps getting drawn to camp by the previous night's gunfire . . . that they should double up on the overnight watches to make sure nothing got missed out in the trees. And with the Harrison girls regularly working a double together anyway, the two to four shift was already covered for two sets of eyes. Everybody else though, they needed to pull extra duty to handle the rest of the night. Which meant that rather than Daryl getting off the roof at _ten_ like he usually did, he ended up being stuck there until full midnight. And for that whole four hour stretch, it was just him and Glenn up there alone together.

Daryl had not been thrilled by that arrangement.

It wasn't that he actually _disliked_ Glenn, because he didn't. Even with how cranky Daryl generally was when speaking to him (as he was when speaking to basically everyone outside of her and Sophia), Carol had also gotten Daryl to admit, when specifically asked, that, quote, "the kid's all right, and he's definitely got some balls on him." So the issue was more that he just didn't want to be stuck spending alone time with anyone. Well, again, anyone outside of her and Sophia, and neither of them were up for guard duty as of yet. Not that Carol hadn't offered to help out that night, because really all they'd needed for this watch was just that second set of eyes, and she had a working pair of those. But Daryl, he'd been concerned about her not physically being to the place yet where she could climb up and down the RV ladder and onto the roof, without potentially hurting herself again. And once she'd thought about it in those terms, she'd had to admit that there were enough (daily to hourly) twitches and spasms in her still mending muscles and tendons . . . and organs, Lord help her poor black and blue kidneys . . . that she knew Daryl's concerns there were valid.

They weren't just coming from him being overprotective.

And she'd already come too far in her recovery to set herself back doing something stubborn and stupid. Because God, she'd JUST stopped peeing blood three daysearlier! So rather than pushing to help out on watch, she'd just resigned herself to not seeing Daryl possibly until morning. Of course she wanted to stay up to wait for him, but after the day she'd had, a day which had started before sunrise, she didn't expect that would be possible. And in fact she did pass out shortly after Daryl came in to say goodnight to Sophia.

That had been just before eight.

Then Sophia woke her up a couple hours later saying she'd had a bad dream and wanted to sleep with her. The problem was, it wasn't quite so easy sleeping on the bench with her daughter as it was sleeping with Daryl. And that was simply because the mattress was so narrow that their bodies had to be pretty well intertwined to make sure the lighter person wouldn't fall on the floor. Daryl obviously made sure that didn't happen to her.

Carol was worried that she wouldn't be able to do the same for her daughter.

So what they ended up doing instead, was something that Carol hadn't realized was an even option before. But it turned out that the mattresses on the beds were actually really easily removed from the wooden base, so that you could get to the storage spaces underneath. So she and Sophia simply moved their mattresses to the floor. There wasn't quite enough space to lay them out side by side, but there was enough space to do one flat, and one folded horizontally. That way the folded side bent against Sophia's bunk, and basically just left it as kind of a cushioned space to curl up into. And the width of one point five mattresses was essentially (as far as Carol could see anyway) just the right width to fit her, Daryl and Sophia all in the same place without fear of anyone getting smothered. So with her daughter curled up in front of her, and space for Daryl to curl in behind her, Carol pulled up their joint sheet, and dropped off to sleep again sometime after ten. The next time she woke up, it was because of a nuzzled kiss on her neck.

Her eyes crinkled as she let her fingers curl around the muscular arm that had just slid around her waist.

"Hey," she yawned on a groggy whisper, "how do you like our lower deck sleeping arrangements?"

"Fine with me," he hummed with another nuzzle, "it doesn't hurt your back, though, being down here?"

"So far so good," she murmured, "the mattress is pretty firm. I think it might just be getting up from the floor tomorrow that will be the problem."

"Hmm," he sighed, "'well, if you wake up stiff just give me a poke."

Feeling her eyes crinkle with a faint tickle of genuine amusement, Carol gave Daryl's hand a squeeze and huffed back, "seems like I should be the one saying that to you."

It took a second, but then she heard a muffled snort against her shoulder, and then, "God Peach, I don't know what I'm gonna do with you!"

"Yeah," she shot back with a sleepy chuckle, "I can't wait to see what you do with me either!"

There was another snorted huff at that before they both fell quiet. And for a second they just laid there in the dark before she felt him cuddle her in a little closer. Then he whispered, "you really doing okay? Or are you just trying to be?"

Her jaw twitched.

"No," she let out on a sigh, "no, it's not just trying. I think I am okay actually. It was a weird day for sure, and I did have a bit of a cry this afternoon while you were out hunting, but honestly those felt more like happy tears even than relieved ones. I mean," she squeezed his fingers, "I know things are still horrible, but somehow they seem better," her voice faded off, "even though they're not."

Yes, they were all still living in Hell . . . but now it was Hell without Ed. So even if his removal from the world only made a difference to her and her daughter, that was a change which meant EVERYTHING to them. Though, given how Daryl had just kissed her neck as he rubbed her stomach, Carol was reminded again how much Ed's death meant to him too. And suddenly feeling a genuine ache of need inside her, she gently untangled herself from Sophia so she could roll the other way. That's when she let her fingers curl into the fabric of Daryl's shirt as she buried her face against his throat. His arms slipped around her body.

She breathed him in.

"I know I've said it before," she finally let out on a heavy, emotional, exhale, "and I know you don't want to hear it again, but truly, I can never thank you enough for everything you did to get us to today."

"Ain't nothing to thank me for," he grunted, "I was just lookin' after things like somebody should've a long time ago. So now that he's gone for good, don't go thinking you need to do anything to make us be square. You promise me that, okay?" His voice started to get heavy, "because it'd make me feel kind of sick if you did."

Hearing the unexpected pain in Daryl's voice, Carol quickly lifted her head to catch his eyes in the shadows. What she could see there was fear, and embarrassment, and she was reminded yet again that this was not an area where he had a lot of confidence. And it was entirely possible that there had been a woman in his past who had maybe slept with him just because she needed something from him. Or maybe she had felt that she owed him some kind of pity sex, rather than being with him because she had actually cared about him.

Either scenario would explain his rather emotional reaction now.

So she reached up to touch his cheek.

"That was _never_ a thought in my head, bear," she cut back quickly, and with tears in her voice, "I promise. I'm so grateful, but the only reason I want to be with you is because right from the beginning, you've always taken such good care of me. You make me feel good. And the more time we spend together," she gave him a teary smile, "the more sure I am that you're the sweetest, strongest," she patted his chest, " _smartest_ man, I've ever met. And I can see in the way that your jaw's twitching right now that you want to disagree with me maybe on some of those points but," she brought her finger up to his lips, "that's not happening. I said what I said," her eyes crinkled as her voice cracked, "and I see no reason to discuss it any further, okay?"

For a moment Daryl just stared over at her with a faint sheen on his eyes. Finally he blinked and the tears were gone as he gave her a slow nod.

"Okay," he whispered while reaching out to pull her back to his chest, "we won't talk about it again."

It was clear that her words had gotten through to him, and for that Carol was so relieved, because she didn't want him living with even a whisper in the back of his head that their physical relationship was tainted by any faint sense of obligation on her part. Even just knowing him these few weeks, with how closed off and private he was, she understood how much that thought would hurt him. Luckily though, she could say with a true and pure heart that her affection for him had started building from that first day in the woods.

That was the day he'd picked her the fennel because she had a stomachache.

And Day Two was the peppermint. And really how could she _not_ fall for a mountain man who saved her from monsters, and picked her herbs in the forest? Her eyes crinkled.

It was impossible.

And as she felt his hands slide under her tank top, right before he began to gently massage her lower back like he did every night now to help her sore muscles, her eyes began to fill.

"See, _this_ is why I'm with you," she murmured with a kiss to his throat, "because you rub my back and you find me medicine when I don't feel well, and you make my daughter smile like she never has before," she snuggled her head in closer and let out a heavy sigh, "and you just make me happy that I can wake up each day here with the two of you."

A moment passed then where Daryl was completely still and quiet. Then he tipped his head down to press a kiss to her temple right as he gave her a tight, _fierce_ , hug. He didn't say anything though.

Nothing else needed to be said.

And another few minutes went by where they just stayed cuddled up that way, and Carol's lashes had just started to flutter again when she felt Daryl shift his head slightly. Then he pressed his lips to her ear.

"After that, I do hate to move on to a sour note now," he started speaking in a whisper, "because I know you're not gonna want to hear this, but up on the roof tonight, Glenn told me that he went out this afternoon and drove around the outskirts of that neighborhood we hit the other day. He'd been hoping maybe the stuff we'd dropped was still laying in the street so he could grab it easy. There were too many walkers though clogging things up for him to get close enough to check. But," he took a breath, " _after_ , when he was cutting around to get back here, apparently he found a gas station and a little strip mall buried in maybe a mile or so from that neighborhood. Said he didn't even get as close as the parking lot 'cuz there were too many cars left, combined with a healthy dose of walkers stumbling around so he was worried about getting pinned in. When he came back though," he let out a sigh, "he sketched himself out a map and a plan, and tomorrow first thing, he's gonna make a real try of it and uh, well, I'm going with him. Just the two of us, 'cuz we figure we're the fastest and have the best shot of breaking through and getting out quick."

Though Carol knew how desperate they were for supplies, still, she felt her heart drop at the news of Daryl going out on another run. Especially after he came so close to DYING on the last one! So she couldn't help herself from pushing back against his plans.

Just a little bit.

"But it's not your turn, pookie," she murmured sadly as her fingertips pressed into his arm, "yours or Glenn's. Somebody else should go this time. It's not right for you or him to keep taking all the big risks for the group."

This would be a time where Carol did feel some genuine guilt over not being capable of helping on these runs herself. Of course right now she didn't have the courage or the skills to be anything more than a liability. Someday though, she'd be able to do more. In the meantime, she just waited, feeling the steady heartbeat thrumming beneath her ear as Daryl took in a deep breath and let it out.

Then he patted her back.

"Ain't no point in arguing about risks from one person to the next, Peach," he countered softly, "not when we got walkers wandering straight into camp while we're sleeping. More even to the point though, somebody's gotta go now, or we'll be eating nothing but squirrel and mudpies in a day or so. And Glenn said this place, not only was there a gas station, and Lord knows we need gas, but the strip mall had both a Chinese restaurant and a Dollar Store in it and he said from his angle, neither one looked like it'd been smashed up too bad, so there might really be supplies left in there."

"Yeah," Carol cut in with a sniff, "a bunch of fortune cookies."

"I know you're being sarcastic, baby," he murmured back, "but they would be food, and besides I really could go for a box of Chinese cookies. We ain't had nothin' sweet in weeks now, and as good a cook as you are, even I'm getting sick of squirrel."

There was no point in attempting to counter that point . . . everybody was sick of squirrel . . . especially on top of all the other ones that Daryl had just made. So all Carol did was let out a sigh of, "yeah, I know," because the conversation was done. Mostly because Daryl had made very calm, logical, counterpoints, which demolished each tiny argument that she'd made to him. And tiny arguments were still the only ones she felt comfortable making. Of course she knew that Daryl would never respond to her speaking up with violence or the kind of anger that Ed had. Still though, after more than a decade of being beaten down every time she opened her mouth, it was going to take a little while to find her voice again. So the only whisper she added then was just that he wasn't to leave without saying goodbye. He hummed back a "yes ma'am," that made her eyes crinkle. So she cuddled in and sent up a prayer that he would stay safe on this new run.

She fell asleep to him gently rubbing her back.

Sometime later she was pulled up out of a dream by a funny sound. It was sort of like a whimper. But even while her eyes were still opening she heard Daryl whispering over her head, "it's okay, angel, it's okay. Your momma and I are right here and nothing's gonna hurt you." And she blinked into the shadows, realizing that Daryl was talking to Sophia. Her eyes popped.

 _Oh! Sophia!_

Now feeling a bolt of fear and panic, Carol bolted up and rolled over to see that Daryl had one hand on Sophia's cheek while he brushed the hair back from her face. Her daughter didn't actually seem to be fully awake though. There was still just that soft whimpering. Apparently it was coming from whatever was happening in her dream.

Though it was more likely a nightmare.

And Carol was just about to wake her up . . . because God knew she could actually be reliving that moment with Ed in the tent . . . when the whimpering stopped. So for a second Carol was thinking that maybe she could let her sleep because the nightmare had passed on its own . . . but then Sophia's eyes popped open.

With the bit of moonlight cutting around the blinds, there was just enough grey to see her daughter's face.

And apparently her daughter could see her and Daryl pretty well too.

Because she blinked what were clearly wet eyes, as she stared at them both for a moment. Then she swallowed hard and whispered, "daddy's dead, right?"

"Yeah, baby," Carol murmured back with a break in her voice, "daddy's dead."

For a moment Sophia just blinked her sleepy, teary, blink before she bit down on her lip.

"He's still there in my dreams."

Before either Carol or Daryl could respond to that, Sophia continued on with a sniff of, "can I move over between you guys?"

And Carol gave her a sad smile as she murmured, "of course sweetie," and she shifted to slide her arms around Sophia's thin body. Once she had her daughter cuddled up against her chest, she rolled slightly and Daryl immediately pulled them both over to him.

That's when Sophia rolled the other way and into his arms.

It was a move that on another day might have caused Carol a pang of grief, like her comfort was being rejected, but she knew that wasn't the case today. It was just that Daryl was the one who made Sophia feel the safest.

He was the one that made Carol feel safest too.

So Carol just cuddled her daughter from the back, as Daryl let her burrow into his chest. And with his arms as long as they were, and her and her daughter being so thin, he actually had her wrapped up almost as well as he did Sophia.

Then he let out a heavy sigh.

"Things'll start to get better before you know it, angel," he whispered after a moment, "I promise. Each day he'll fade off more and more, 'til eventually you'll hardly think about him at all. And then, even when you do, you won't feel it in your heart anymore . . ." his voice thickened, "not like now."

His words brought tears to Carol's eyes, because she knew that Daryl was speaking to her daughter from experience, and how he'd probably coped after the death of his own abusive father. And though she hated that they'd both had to suffer this way, she was at least grateful that Daryl was able to share more than empty platitudes. Because she could hear from the sniffles coming out of the little body she was wrapped around, that what Daryl said had made an impact on Sophia too. Mostly what she was going to need though was time.

And that was the one thing that they had to keep fighting for.

/*/*/*/*/

The next morning Daryl and Glenn headed out just after breakfast. And given how the big key to their plan was a quick, deadly quiet, in and out . . . as in they didn't want nobody else tagging along and slowing them down . . . neither of them mentioned where they were going that day to anyone besides Carol. "Scouting trip," is all Glenn muttered when Dale asked what the rush was while they were scarfing down their ration of acorn tea and the last of the Cheerios. As it was, Daryl didn't even eat his whole scoop of the cereal 'cuz he knew that Sophia and Carol needed those calories more than he did.

They'd both lost enough weight that he was starting to feel it when he hugged 'em, and hell if he was gonna stand for them starving to death on his watch.

So all he did was eat enough of the little oats to keep him from getting dizzy on their trip, before he and Glenn left in his pickup with two backpacks, three empty duffels and the two empty gas cans they had. That might have seemed a little overly optimistic, but if the pumps were still working and that Dollar Store wasn't totally trashed, they might really get a good haul.

That was the main thought in Daryl's head as they headed down the mountain.

It was five plus hours later that they got back to camp. And fuck if Daryl wasn't pretty much fit to burst! Because on that one trip, he and Glenn had managed to gather enough food to cover the whole camp for a solid FOUR days worth of real meals! Seriously it was the best run they'd had yet! But between the backroom of the Dollar Store and what they found in the stockroom of the Chinese place, it was like a damn ransom.

Plus they got some of the Chinese cookies too!

By any standard it was a hell of a trip, and given how nobody knew they'd been planning it, it was a real surprise for all those pains in the asses, when he and Glenn came back with all the bags filled up, plus one canister of gas.

That was all they'd been able to scrounge from four pumps basically running on fumes.

Still, it was one more canister than they'd had, so that was a win too. And even better than all the group stuff, he'd also managed to scoop up a couple presents for his girls too. Just some hard candies and hand cream for Carol, plus gummy bears and a pack of sparkly hair things for Sophia, but they loved 'em like he'd brought them diamonds or something. And it made him feel real good to see them happy like that. Because making those two happy had become important to him. Of course them being safe and fed came first, but happy came along pretty close behind. And what's funny, was how happy had ever been a word with a real meaning for him before, but it was different now. Seeing those two smile, was like the best thing in the world to him.

What sucked though was how Merle had noticed that, and had started using it against him.

'Cuz after he came out of the trailer from giving them their little bag, his brother was right on top of him with a poke to the chest, telling him he was acting like a pussy whipped bitch who don't even have time for his own kin no more.

Yeah.

That asshole was calling him a bitch WHILE he was asking why he didn't want to hang out anymore just to watch that dumb fuck get high. Like the fact that Merle couldn't even start a freaking CONVERSATION without being a total jackass, didn't answer the " _why ain't we hanging out no more?_ " question right off the bat. Course when he pointed that idiocy out to his brother, that didn't go so well.

Of course it never had.

This time though, Merle just looked at him for a second, right before he hauled off and sucker punched him in the nose. Then he stalked off towards the field, calling him a "panty-waist bitch" over his shoulder, even while Daryl was still trying to pinch off the blood pouring down his face. His only thought then was just hiding that blood from Carol.

There was no question how upset she'd be.

Lucky for him though, Lori actually had seen the whole exchange with Merle, and he knew that 'cuz the second that dick was out of sight, she was on him like white on rice. Her hand was on his elbow, and she was muttering, "good God, your brother is such a jackass," as she started steering him over towards the trees before they caught anyone else's attention. And once she got him set with his head tipped back, she ran off to the laundry pile to get him a clean shirt.

His was already splattered over with streaks of blood.

Course most any other time that wouldn't of mattered if he'd got some gunk on him, but they'd both known after the beatings Carol had taken . . . the most recent one where her own nose had been busted open . . . that if she saw the same thing had happened to him, it would've really sent her back to a bad place.

And neither of them wanted that.

So even though patience wasn't his thing, he was good and waited for Lori to come back from where she'd run off across the field to the clean laundry hanging out to dry. Course the second he saw her pushing through the scrub with the new shirt, he moved to start unbuttoning the filthy one he was wearing. Then when she walked up they did a quick trade off with him pulling on the clean, while she eyeballed the blood on the one he'd handed to her. And as they started to walk out, with him still poking at his nose, she murmured, "you need to go wash your face and hands too," and he muttered back, "yep, yep, I got it," before he paused for a second to add on the last thing he needed say.

"Uh, thanks."

That was a word that had never come easy to him. And Lori, though she shot him a faint smirk for saying it, she didn't actually bust his chops beyond a slight elbow to the ribs. That was just when they were breaking out of the trees, and of course who should be right there watching them from across the campfire, but her boy Shane.

If looks good kill man, fuck, they both would have been dead.

But of course Daryl was walking out of the woods with his shirt still open, and Lori half pressed into his side. Really, if it had been anybody BUT Shane, he might of felt just a tiny bit bad for the thoughts that could be going through another man's head seeing his woman in a situation like that. Given how it was this _particular_ man though, all Daryl felt was a shot of bitter amusement. Because that fucker deserved whatever nasty thoughts were going through his head right then.

That and a lot more.

And Daryl wanted to actually finish things off with a good wink, just 'cuz that would have made Shane LOSE HIS SHIT(!), but he held that urge in. That was only 'cuz he'd grown fond enough of Lori to not want to put her in a worse spot than she already was, what with her getting a rep to start for being with the jackass so soon after her husband died. So instead of the wink, he went with an eye roll, basically to point out how stupid Shane was for thinking whatever the hell he was thinking. Then he gave Lori a nod. She gave him back a smile that looked kind of nervous, and that confused him a bit, but before he could ask if there was something worrying her, she'd peeled off towards the quarry with his bloody shirt in hand. So he just shrugged and headed off to the little shower area to wash up.

The next time he saw Carol was when he went in to get her for dinner, and though she did have a little purse of concern in her lips when she asked why his nose looked swollen, he just squeezed her hand and murmured, "stood up too fast and bumped into a branch."

Course lying wasn't his preferred way of dealing with Carol, but seeing her relieved smile and feeling the pat of his chest then as she whispered back, "oh good, I was worried that maybe you'd got into a fight with Shane or something," he couldn't find any part of him that felt guilt over what he'd done. It was a little white lie to save her stress.

Ain't nothing wrong with that.

So he pressed a kiss to her forehead and pulled her into what was planned to be a quick hug that extended out a little longer when she nuzzled his throat. And God did he love when she did that, so he slowed things down to just enjoy the moment for a minute. Letting himself feel that softness of her breasts pressing into his chest, against the firm hold of her arms around his waist. Then there was a sharp knock on the screen door, right before Amy yanked it back.

"I'm sorry," she murmured while stepping up and inside with her eyes down, "but we need the bowls and silverware."

"Oh, of course," Carol answered softly as she untangled herself from his arms, "I'll help you carry everything out."

And the moment was gone.

Moments were always going, but there was nothing to be done about that. Dinner was good at least. With all those bags of noodles they'd picked up at the Chinese place, plus some weird canned vegetables they'd found at the Dollar Store, they finished that day with really full bellies for the first time in at least a week or more. If he'd had it to do over, to actually _plan_ for this end of the world shit . . . though there'd really been no time for planning, it'd just been over . . . damn if he wouldn't have stocked up on spaghetti and rice. Just boxes and bags of that shit, because for one thing it lasted forever, and also 'cuz it was the only thing that really filled you up good no matter if you had anything else in the bowl. The thing was though, with over twenty people in camp, all this food they'd got was still only gonna last a few days.

All they'd bought them was a bit more time.

So later that night, talk around the fire turned to the supply issue again. First thing, everybody (minus Jim who'd already slithered back to his tent, and Shane who would have sooner bit off his own tongue) said was how grateful they were for the run he and Glenn had gone on that day. Course Daryl brushed that talk off because he didn't want to hear it. Instead he just pointed out . . . and it was generally agreed . . . that the odds of them having that kind of luck around there again were pretty slim. Yeah, there was probably dozens more groceries and markets within easy driving distance but again, like the problem had been from the beginning, nobody knew where the hell anything was. Glenn had stumbled over this place they'd hit today purely by accident, and nobody got that lucky on a wrong turn twice.

Which was how the idea of heading into Atlanta for the one big ass score, came up again.

The thing was though, that was the one plan Daryl could not get on board with. Big cities made his balls itch to start, but then adding in how this one now would just be CRAWLING with dead people, like tens to possibly _hundreds_ of THOUSANDS of 'em depending on how that napalm drop turned out, there was no way in hell he was volunteering for that trip no matter how great a haul they might find. Really he'd rather take Carol and Sophia and move them all off into the woods and just live off the land, than take a day trip guaranteed to end in somebody dying.

Not when that somebody might be HIM!

Because it didn't matter how good he was gettin' in dealing with these things one on one, not when you were totally surrounded like that. He only had so many arrows and so many bullets, and he wasn't gonna be wasting them all on a single trip. Fuck that. Plus, most of these jackasses he was camped out with still could barely shoot straight all these weeks into the turn, so they'd be little to no help at all once the shit hit the fan.

And that shit was going to be FLYING, likely from minute one over the city line.

Which was why, when Morales looked right at him and asked if he'd lead a group in there, Daryl just shook his head.

"Hell no, man, you crazy? That's a death trip right there."

Him saying that put a quick damper on what had been a fairly excited conversation. And after everybody fell quiet (except for Merle of course, because he was just cackling to himself over by the trees) he was actually damn surprised when after a minute, Shane piped up from the other side of the fire, to mutter that he was right.

Going into Atlanta was a fool's run.

That was the first time the two of them had agreed on anything since the night it had been decided to beat Ed into a bloody piece of pulp. And given the look Shane had shot at him earlier when he'd seen him coming out of the trees with Lori, Daryl was kind of especially surprised that psycho hadn't disagreed with his take, just on the principle of being disagreeable. That was kind of Shane's thing after all. For whatever reason though, even if he hadn't looked up when he'd said, he'd said what he had. Then he picked up a small stick and tossed it into the fire.

Another few seconds passed where the only sound was just the crackle of that tiny piece of wood catching flames. Then Glenn cleared his throat and said he'd do it, he'd lead the run. That he could think of four good places to hit just off the top of his head, but that he was going to need at least three people to go with him to help watch his back, and to carry out whatever he found, or else there wouldn't be much point in expecting this could be a big score.

After that, more people started speaking up.

Morales, 'cuz he said it was his turn to go, which it was. From there it was T-Dog and Jacqui back to back. With them both being from the city (like Glenn was), they agreed that with all three of them there, there would be less chance of the group getting turned around or lost. Then of course Andrea opened her mouth, just because she was always looking to do more and this was her big chance. It was clear to Daryl that Amy wasn't too happy with her sister's decision . . . that was written all over her face . . . but she didn't say nothin'. But really, people had to make these choices for themselves. That's what everything was about these days.

Just settling on the line of what you were willing to do to survive.

It seemed like they had a full house to go though, and while Daryl was holding Carol's hand, with Sophia slumped in his lap, he was looking around at the volunteers, trying to figure how many of them were gonna be dead by tomorrow night. Then suddenly Merle stepped up and threw his cigarette butt into the fire. After that he turned around, and while he was looking right at Daryl with a big smirk on his face, he said that if his little brother didn't have the balls to go into the big bad city, that he'd be happy to go in his place to keep all the ladies safe. Daryl just rolled his eyes at that because he wasn't taking no damn bait from that asshole. And it was clear from how many people started chewing on their lips and looking at the dirt, how nobody really wanted Merle along for that trip.

They weren't gonna say jack about it though.

For one thing, you really didn't cross Merle if you didn't have to. But more to the point at that moment, next to him, (and probably Shane) Merle was the best shot in the camp. So the people going on the run might have a little bit better chance of coming back alive, if he was watching their asses. Not that Daryl didn't still think it was a damn stupid run, but either way, it wasn't gonna affect him direct so he just put it out of his head. His brother was his only concern, and God knew Merle could look after himself better than anyone Daryl had ever met before.

He'd be fine no matter where they went.

/*/*/*/*

Later that night, when Daryl got off his roof shift and headed in to bed, he found Carol waitin' up for him again. Seeing as it'd still only been a couple days since Ed had been shipped off to hell, Sophia's nightmares still hadn't passed. In the daytime she was all right, mostly, but at night that fucker was still slithering around in her little brain. So he wasn't surprised when he walked in to find her and her mama sleeping on the floor again even though he'd left them two hours earlier, laying on separate bunks.

It was obvious the little on had had another bad dream.

And after he'd gave her a kiss on the forehead, and fixed her blanket over her shoulders . . . doing that check on her had become a habit quicker than he would've thought . . . he yanked off his boots and moved over to scoot in behind Carol.

Once he was settled, with the bunk pressed against his back and Carol pressed against his front, he gave the cover sheet a snap as he pulled it around her shoulders. That's when she rubbed her cheek against his shirt as she murmured how happy she was that he hadn't volunteered to go into the city. All he did then was snort back, "there was no chance of that one, baby. They're gonna lose at least one someone guaranteed, and I wouldn't even trust they'll get anywhere close to the haul they think they will. Not with how the cities got overrun first. I mean, I don't doubt there's still food to be found, but just like with us out here in the 'burbs," he let out a heavy sigh, "knowing exactly where to look for it is the number one problem."

"Do you really think someone's going to die?" Carol murmured back after a pause. And hearing that clear worry now in her tone, he rubbed her hip, trying to soothe whatever bad thoughts he'd put into her head.

Though he couldn't actually take them away.

"I do think someone's probably gonna get killed or bit," he continued softly, "which is basically the same thing. But me saying it again in the morning ain't gonna stop anyone from going, 'cuz they still got this thought in their heads like Atlanta's some kind of, I don't know," he sighed, "like a special place. You know, like before, if someone said oh you can't find this or that, you can always go to the city and find it there. And before it was always true," his voice faded, "and they just can't let that world go."

The reality of how that world was gone, and how it wasn't EVER comin' back, was a lesson they were gonna have to learn for themselves, and that's all there was to it. As it was, Daryl was just starting to plan next steps in his own head. Because the days were slipping away with no sign of real life, or other people, outside of what they'd built up on the hill. Which meant that it was going past the time when he needed to sit down with Carol, then Merle, and talk about what they should do next, 'cuz God knew they needed an exit plan from this camp before things went more wrong than they already were. Part of him had started thinking kind of off and on about maybe headin' back to the mountains where he'd grown up, and just going straight into the forest. That would at least eliminate the dead (and living) people problem, because hardly anyone had ever lived there to start.

There were other, very real, problems with that idea though.

The biggest obviously being the low odds of making a long ass trek like that, without one of them getting hurt or killed along the way. Then if they were going out to nowhere, that'd mean they'd lose the option of scavenging for real food, and squatting for shelter. Instead they'd need to actually _build_ a shelter that was big enough for all four of 'em to live in for the duration, plus hold up to any kind of storms that would blow through. Plus of course they'd need a permanent (clean) water source, and they'd need to figure out a way to grow food. Because even given the skills he and Merle had when it came to hunting and scavenging in the wild, nobody could live off vermin and wild herbs forever. For one thing they'd all get the scurvy . . . a kid he'd grown up with had got it, and it was pretty gross . . . and for another, Sophia would stop growing at four foot something if she didn't get better eats than that. So yeah, as he felt Carol's fingertips tapping a faint, kind of nervous beat on his collarbone, Daryl winced, because he was starting to realize maybe the mountains weren't such a great idea after all.

At least not right now with just the four of them.

Before his brain could shift to another thought, suddenly Carol began to whisper in the dark and all his attention shifted to her. She was saying that Lori had a problem. A big one. Of course he immediately flashed on that nervous smile she'd given him earlier, so his brow darkened as his fingertips pressed into Carol's hip.

"What kind of problem?" He murmured back.

For a moment Carol was quiet, and he could tell from how tense she was, that whatever was making Lori nervous, was making _Carol_ nervous too. But just before he was about to prompt her to keep talking, she sucked in a slow breath and let out a heavy one. And with that second breath, she also whispered one word.

Shane.

And Daryl gritted his teeth.

 _Fuck._

* * *

 _A/N 2: Long note._

 _You can see that we are clearly now, finally, tipping into season one canon. So far Ed's dead, and in the morning there will be a trip to Atlanta that is expected to go horribly wrong. My other draft of this chapter ended with Rick's appearance, but I trimmed it back because there was a paragraph in there I couldn't get where I wanted, and it was smack dab in the middle of the last ten pages of the draft. Figured better to post and save what I had for next time around. At the very least, (outside of that one annoying paragraph) I now I have ten thousand additional words already cleaned up. That's a very good thing._

 _And for caryl specific moments from canon, I still wanted to let them be together when Ed was put down, but with how his death played out here, obviously things had to be switched up a little. Carol got the same catharsis in getting the last 'word,' but given how she'd already left him, had moved on with Daryl and was already stretching her wings, I didn't think she needed the whole 'repeated axe to the head, die, fucker die!' moment she had in canon. She was already free, and Ed had died every which way of horrible, so I think that would be a specific satisfaction in and of itself. So he wasn't worth expending more energy than that knife to the head._

 _If the analogy of Lori and Shane turning into Carol and Ed seems a little weird, remember that it's not. He was obsessed with her, and when she went back to Rick, he attacked her at the CDC, and if she hadn't clawed at him there's no telling if he would have stopped before he raped her. And he might have "felt badly" when he sobered up but that doesn't make it any less horrible or abusive in how he reacted to her rejection. He was manipulative, and disturbed, and grew to love/hate Lori as much as he love/hated Rick. And it kind of drives me nuts when people, SO MANY PEOPLE, are all, oh Shane could have handled the Governor or Negan or whatever. No, he couldn't. He couldn't handle anything. What great strategic move did Shane ever make to take care of the group… he executed an unarmed kid in the woods and murdered Otis at the school just to save Carl. That's it. We never saw him do anything noble. He thought looking for Sophia was a waste of time because she wasn't Carl. He thought the whole idea of extending more than minimal protection and loyalty to anybody outside of Lori and Carl was a waste of resources better spent on…Lori and Carl. His belief that Rick wasn't built for that world because he CARED about other people, was flawed on its base. The only reason Rick and the group survived was because they banded together and kept saving each others' asses. The idea that somehow Shane could have kept Lori and Carl alive all by himself by simply MURDERING anyone who he thought was an inconvenience to his plans is ludicrous. Because keep in mind, both Dale and Daryl figured out immediately that he'd killed Otis, and didn't trust him worth a damn after that. Because why would you entrust your life, or RISK your life to protect, someone that you know will slice your throat at any time? You don't. If he had lived, he would have been cast out, or somebody else would have ended up putting him down, because HE was the liability to their survival. And I could go on, but I won't :) Suffice it to say that he was, no doubt, fucked up, and I'm giving Lori a bit of a fighting chance here for realizing that (or starting to get a hint of it) before she gets blindsided by Rick's return. And I don't hate Shane. I thought as a CHARACTER, he was great. He was complicated in a really divisive way because he did so much bad, and honestly (objectively) so little good, but he had his moments where you could see that he'd once been a good guy worthy of other people's loyalty and affection. He just wasn't built for that world :)_

 _I needed Glenn and Daryl to do another run before the big Atlanta one, because there's just no way to keep things realistic without accepting that they would need to be doing runs pretty much constantly. Like I'd recapped a couple chapters back, they're preparing three meals a day for twenty plus people. With canon establishing everything falling apart out of nowhere, nobody would have had more than probably three to five days worth of provisions with them (at best) when they packed up their cars. So even with regular hunts, squirrel and rabbit would only go so far for that many people. Which means that a few weeks into the turn and they'd be full on starving if they hadn't been making regular supply runs. I did also lay the groundwork for the Atlanta trip earlier, in that they were putting it off as a last resort. And my explanation for why they hit Atlanta in canon, is the same that I outlined in here. That it was becoming clear they needed to begin making Next Step plans and they hoped in Atlanta they'd get a big haul to get everyone setup to hit the road. It's the only way it really makes sense to take that level of risk when the reality was that you could keep swiping through the smaller towns and immediate suburbs, pretty much indefinitely. I stand by Daryl purposely opting out in canon because he knew something would go wrong. Really him and Shane, (who, next to Merle), were the only ones who could genuinely take care of themselves, both skipping this huge trip, is odd. So I think they were on the same page there. Shane even said flat out in one of the episodes that he had no intention of going into the city to get anyone who was left behind. So for canon, I think that would have been one of the few areas where they would have been on the same page._

 _Also along the 'trying to be realistic' lines, I can't believe they hadn't regularly experienced walkers stumbling into camp. We know they were a relatively short drive into the city, so that's the one part of GA would be pretty densely populated. And in canon, the day Daryl returned to camp there was that walker stumbling out of the woods just ahead of him, so that's why I've been folding in these small incidents. It just seems stupid to pretend like that wasn't a routine issue, because the quarry only protected them on one side. Then in canon, the reason they folded camp and left immediately after the big attack was because that was the first one where their people were killed. Plus based on them literally starving by the time they found the CDC, it seemed like they lost all of their supplies in that attack too._

 _Beyond that, not sure if I've mentioned in my notes here yet, but I plan for this story to cover just 'season one.' And with this ill fated trip finally happening, this now places us halfway through the season. So to be clear, we will wrap with the CDC as they did, and then I want to pick up with a new story for Season Two. That will keep this one from meandering without a specific plot. And in a perfect world, it would be great to be able to do a story per season with this universe, but we all know that would take like a decade at the current pace :) So let's just say we'll for sure tackle season two, and if we can get anywhere close to wrapping that in 2018'ish, maybe we can think about a prison story as a possibility. Maybe. But to this one, I'm thinking two-three chapters left. I'm aiming for two long ones :)_


	12. How I Met Your Brother

**Author's Note:** First, thank you to the person on Nine Lives who nominated Cedar Forest for Story of the Week. It got picked for last week :)

Now, picking up with Daryl again the same night. FYI if you don't know it, the song here is " _Blowing In The Wind._ " If you look up the lyrics you'll see why I/he picked it.

And I have been waiting like a year now to be able to use this chapter title below…..!

* * *

 **How I Met Your Brother**

Sophia's nightmares were bad that night.

And with the Shane situation on Daryl's mind, his own sleep was kind of restless too. So every time she whimpered in her sleep, his eyes snapped open. After the third time that she'd woke up full on crying, (two were after Daryl had gone to bed, the first was with just her momma when they'd had to move down to the floor) Carol whispered over Sophia's head that if he wanted to go sleep down in the front part of the trailer, that she'd understand. All he'd done to that offer was give her back a grunt of, "don't be ridiculous, Peach," as he shifted around to sit up with Sophia in his arms, so he could lean against the lower part of the bunk. Then he clicked on the flashlight to take some of the pitch out of the dark, before he started rubbing the little one's back.

That didn't seem to be help much though, 'cuz she was still sniffling against his chest. So after another second he took a deep breath, and when he let it out, he began to hum an old Bob Dylan song in her ear. It might've seemed dumb, but he was hoping that it might help to push away some of that bad stuff rolling around in her head.

God knew if it was gonna do any good.

From the look of shock though on Carol's face there in the shadows, he could see that she was not expecting anything like a lullaby, such as middle of the night, off key, murmured Dylan defined that word, coming out of him. And he was a little embarrassed for her seeing it, but all he did was whisper how it was a song his momma used to sing to him when he was much littler than Sophia was now. What he didn't add then before going back to the song, was how back in the day he'd had many a nightmare where he'd wake up crying 'cuz of his own shitty ass father. And at the time his momma sang to him, that bastard had still been alive and kickin' the crap out of him and her on the daily. That was back when Merle was off doing a year long stretch in juvie.

Lucky bastard.

Without his brother around though, at least he'd been able to get more of his momma's attention. Really, if he had any shot at all in being the kind of stand up guy that he knew Sophia and Carol needed him to be, it was all gonna come from those few years he'd had with her. It was a hard fact to swallow, but she was the only person who had ever loved him. Even if she was the only one though, and even if he hadn't had her for near enough time, no doubt without her, he would've turned into another Merle.

Merle had been their daddy's favorite.

So yeah, when he saw the happy, sad tears start sliding down Carol's face as he hummed to Sophia about mountains washing into the sea, he knew that he was at least doing something right. And finally the Bob Dylan did what he was supposed to do, and got Sophia settled and quiet again. Then she took a deep breath and sniffled, "I miss the radio." Strange enough, that caused him a real physical stab of pain. Because they were so busy just working on how to stay alive, that he hardly gave much thought to all the other stuff that was lost now.

Stuff that had made life better even when it was shit.

And he didn't know if there'd ever be such a thing again as real radio or TV, but he was pretty sure music didn't have to die out just because the rest of the world did. So he patted Sophia's back and told her he'd start keeping an eye out on the supply runs for some CDs and a player that could run on batteries. They wouldn't be able to play it much, but maybe once a week would be okay.

They could pretend like it was the radio.

When he said that, he heard another sniffle in the shadows and he looked up to see Carol giving him a teary smile. Then she brought her hand to her lips and blew him a kiss.

His cheeks got hot.

But with the little one at least calm again, there wasn't need for anymore talk. Thank God. So he turned off the light and they all got settled back down on their oversized floor bed. That time they did it like spoons with him on the outside, and Carol in the middle with his hand on her stomach, and her side pressed against him. Sophia was curled up with her head on her mama's chest.

One sheet covered all three of 'em.

It was a lineup that worked for them to get back to sleep, and the next time Daryl woke up, it was to the smell of a fire that was already stoked. And given how he and Carol were generally the first ones up, (outside of whoever was on the roof), that was kind of strange. Though as he lifted his head and looked around he realized the faint light peeking around the blinds was still pretty grey.

That meant it was barely dawn.

And with Carol still sound asleep beside him, he debated just closing his eyes again to get a few more winks. But then he heard whispered voices on just the other side of the trailer wall. His brow wrinkled.

That was Glenn and Jacqui.

It sounded like they were talking about his brother. Jacqui was asking Glenn whether Merle would actually look out for them when they were in the city, or if he might take the trip as an opportunity to, "whiten up the group." That was the term Jacqui used, and it was one that made Daryl wince, because his brother had used it with him more than once since they'd arrived at the camp. The thing was, Daryl hadn't realized other people had heard him use it too. Given the life he'd led so far, and the things that his brother, and his father, and hell even HE, had said and done over the years, it was strange that he actually felt a faint burning of embarrassment at hearing these two talking about him and Merle now. Then he realized that the reason he was feeling that embarrassment was because he was afraid of what Carol might think if _she_ heard he'd been a party to that kind of talk. Even if he didn't say it himself, it still didn't sound good.

And he didn't want her thinking bad of him.

Luckily though, he heard Glenn and Jacqui starting to move off from the RV . . . their voices were fading . . . and from what he could tell, Carol seemed to still be sound asleep. So then he was back with the other dilemma of whether he should bother to get up or just stay there with her and get some more rest. After a minute, the decision was made for him.

He passed out.

When his lashes fluttered open again, it was much brighter outside. Still, he didn't think it was all that late. Just no longer 'pre-dawn.' A point confirmed when he felt Carol shift as she yawned into his shoulder, "I swear the sun comes up earlier since the world ended."

"Hmph," he grunted with a gentle rub of her hip, "that's probably true actually. 'Cuz the last calendar date I remember was the twenty-fourth of May. Then everything went dark. And that was maybe four weeks back, so gotta be moving up to mid-late June by now. Longest day of the year is in there somewhere."

For a second Carol was quiet before she whispered, "the last date I remember for sure was the twenty-sixth. That was the day before we left the house, and while I was going through the cabinets, trying to make sure I hadn't missed any food to pack up, I remember suddenly stopping to look at Sophia's school calendar. It was taped up on the side of the fridge so it wouldn't annoy Ed, and I was looking at the book fair that been scheduled for the week after, and thinking how I wouldn't need to be baking cookies for it anymore because we weren't going to be there. And also," her voice crackled, "most of those kids were already dead anyway. By the second week of the month, the flu hit her school like a wildfire. I remember it had scared me how fast it started spreading, and that was before we even knew what it really was that was happening to people. So mother's intuition or what, but I pulled Sophia out of there right when the first case showed up in her grade. Probably the only decent thing Ed ever did for his daughter was to agree that it would be safer if she stayed at home until it passed." Then she shrugged, "not that that would have saved her of course if she was going to get it, but not being in the school those last few weeks most likely did save her life."

When Carol stopped talking then, Daryl knew that something real bad must of happened inside the school itself to make her say that. So he gave her another light pat on the hip as he murmured, "did one of the kids end up turning while they were in class?"

"Um," Carol cleared her throat, "no, no not one of the kids. It was the principal. It was probably a week or so after I'd pulled Sophia out, he came to school one day with the fever. This was still before we knew about the reanimations as anything beyond rumor, but well after the first advisories had gone out about keeping the kids home if they had a fever. And obviously those advisories applied to the staff too, but," she bit her lip, "the principal, he uh, well, his wife said later on the news that he'd figured as long as he kept on his mask and stayed away from everyone that it would be all right if he went in to get some work to bring home. Unfortunately though," she shook her head, "he got one of the really bad cases. The infection killed him in his office that same day he showed up to get the paperwork, and nobody knew he'd died in there until late in the afternoon when his wife called to see why he hadn't come home yet, and had stopped answering his cell. That's when the secretary went in to check on him, and uh well," she sighed, "he attacked her and got loose. It couldn't have been at a worse time too. It was the end of the day, and with all the kids in the halls talking and yelling and slamming lockers nobody heard the screaming until it was too late. By the time the police got there the walker count was double digits, with twice as many more than that bit. And that's when we knew for sure that the reanimations weren't just a rumor," her voice faded, "and that was the last day of school anywhere in our county."

When she said that, Daryl just bit his lip. Then he took a breath and leaned over to kiss her cheek.

"You go back to sleep," he murmured while pulling away, "I'm gonna go for a hunt."

"Okay, but," she let out a sigh, "I've had enough sleep." She put her hand down on his chest to brace herself, "I'll get up with you."

So they started their day together as they had so many days now over the last week. Daryl did like those mornings the best, 'cuz even if they were living with a couple dozen other people, him and Carol brushing their teeth together, (she insisted he needed to do it once a day or they'd fall out), and taking turns washing up in the basin (even he knew keeping down to a single layer of grime was the only way to keep a woman in his bed), and checking each other for ticks (on average everyone was burning off two to three a day from what they picked up in the fields), were all things that made him feel happy. Like getting a hint of proper domestic mixed in with the curiousness of this new relationship. Because it wasn't like they were having sex yet, or even kissing really, at least not on the lips . . . those bruises around her mouth were still fading . . . but this was a nice way to ease into the rest of it. And once they were cleaned up and had finished their dry cereal and tea (a pickup from the Chinese place), he gave Carol's fingers a squeeze and headed off into the woods to see what kind of game he might find that day.

He was hoping maybe he could find that duck pond again.

/*/*/*/*

The shadows were long and the sun was low in the sky by the time Daryl started to come up on the edge of the tree line surrounding the camp. On a usual day he wouldn't have been out quite so late, but a few hours earlier he'd picked up the trail of a buck and it had gotten him off his return track. The lucky thing was though, that the tracks for the buck in question actually ended up heading towards the quarry, so he was hoping there was still a chance of dropping that animal in time for dinner.

The plan went out of his head when he heard one of the kids scream off in the distance. His eyes popped.

It sounded like Sophia.

So with his pulse pounding and his heart in his throat, he raced forward, pushing his way through the branches and brambles, trying to get to his little one. When he finally broke through into the open though, what he found wasn't Sophia, but an oversized walker just ahead in the field and half the camp beating at it with sticks and baseball bats.

He ran up.

"The fuck is wrong with you people?!" he hissed while snatching his bow down from his shoulder to fire a bolt into the creature's head, "this ain't day one! You all know you gotta get the brain to kill 'em!"

Then he let the bow slide down his arm as his chin snapped up and his eyes locked onto Glenn's.

"Is Sophia all right?!" He continued on, still half in panic and half pissed off at the stupidity of these people so far into the end of the world, "I heard her scream!"

The kid gave him back a quick, sharp nod.

"Yeah, man," Glenn huffed while wiping the back of his hand along his cheek to get some walker blood off, "she's okay. She just saw it first and gave a scream before she and Carl ran back inside the trailer." Then he jerked his thumb over his shoulder, "Carol and Lori are there with them now."

Feeling a wave of relief like he'd never felt before, Daryl sucked in a deep breath and let it out when his eyes fell to the dirt.

"Good, good," he muttered with a press of his hand into his gut, "that's good."

At least she'd remembered what he'd told her to do if she ever came up on a walker . . . just run. With her size and no gun training yet, that was her best defense. And he was just about to go off and see how she and Carol were doing, when he suddenly took note that there was a new face there in the group.

A super thin, really pale guy standing off to the side with a baseball bat in hand.

Daryl's eyebrow shot up as he jerked his chin to the left.

"Who the hell are you?"

For a second nobody answered him, really, the quiet was deafening, and he saw Andrea and Jacqui look to the ground. But then Glenn spoke again. That time his words came out kind of slow and hesitant, while he began to explain how this was Lori's husband, Rick. That they'd run into him in the city and they didn't even realize who he was until they'd gotten back to the camp and Lori and Carl had seen him. Turned out he'd been in the hospital all this time since the turn.

He'd just woken up a few days ago.

Daryl's eyes popped again at that one as he huffed out a, "no shit." Because Jeezus that was one HELL of a survival story/life changing coincidence, if he'd ever heard one before! So he shot the new guy another glance, this time a bit more appraising while he took in the angles on his too thin face and those sharp blue eyes, which seemed to be taking in him just the same way that he was doing to Rick. And on first glance from Daryl's side, Lori's husband seemed okay enough. Certainly didn't have that same prick vibe that Shane had been given off since day one.

So yeah, point there for Lori on picking better the first time around.

Though he had to figure she had her hands full now. Not like that was really his business, but he'd already told Carol that Lori and Carl could come with them when the camp broke apart, so it was possible (depending on how she felt about her husband being back from the dead) that he might still end up with an extra woman and kid to look after when they hit the road.

It was something to talk about with Carol tomorrow.

For now though, he just let out another grunt and muttered, "well congratulations on being alive, I guess. At least you didn't come back from the dead trying to eat nobody's face," he shrugged, "that's something."

Then he threw a half wave in the new guy's direction as he turned to go head towards the RV.

But he hadn't gone another five steps before Glenn called his name again and said there was something more he needed to know about the trip into the city. That it was about Merle.

That something had happened to him.

And again Daryl's heart went into his throat, though that time it came more with a dead weight in his belly. For a second he was froze there, looking off in the distance towards the fire pit with the empty chairs around it. Finally he took a breath and turned around, bracing himself for the worst. Because outside of this 'back from the dead' shit with Lori's husband, that was all Family News was these days.

The worst.

When Glenn started to open his mouth again though, Daryl put his finger up to tell him to wait a minute before he said the next thing. And once he got back the nod, he dropped his bow and ribbon of dead squirrels down to the ground and took a deep breath. After he'd let that one out he took in another. Still, that weight was there in his gut, but he figured it wasn't going to get any better than it was now. So he looked back to the kid who seemed to be the only one with any balls on him today.

The others were starting to fall back and spread out.

"Was he just bit, or is he already dead?"

The question came out soft, almost resigned, because as he'd reminded Carol last night, just bit and already dead both meant the same thing. To his surprise though, Glenn shook his head at the question.

"It wasn't like that," he answered in a quiet tone while shooting a half look over to the new guy . . . the only one who hadn't moved away, "it was something else."

So Daryl's own attention also shifted over to the new guy. Rick.

His jaw was twitching like he wanted to say something.

Which made Daryl think that whatever the hell had gone down in the city with Merle, Lori's husband had played some part in it. His eyes narrowed as he tipped his head to the side.

"What was the something _else_?" He asked now with a rising note of anger and suspicion, "and where's my brother at now?"

And that's when Lori suddenly popped up beside him.

He hadn't even heard her running up.

"I'll tell you what happened," she said softly with a look first to her husband and then to him, "it'll be better coming from me. We should take a walk."

"No," Rick shot back then as he stepped forward, "this is on me, Lori. Nobody else. I'll do it."

And that's when Daryl lost his shit.

"So help me God," he spit out with a kick of the squirrels at his feet, "somebody tell me RIGHT FUCKING NOW where my brother is before I start CRACKING skulls!"

That's when everyone all started moving closer again, talking at once, and over each other and Daryl couldn't make out anything that made any kind off sense. But then Rick yelled, "EVERYONE QUIET, PLEASE, I GOT IT!"

Everybody shut up.

And that's when this new guy who he had never seen before five minutes ago, stepped right up into his face and proceeded to tell him how he had LEFT his brother back in Atlanta. Not as a walker, but as a still living, breathing, person. One that was apparently, handcuffed to a pipe. On a roof.

A roof where there had been a bunch of walkers about to break out on it.

There was some sort of reasoning around that, how leaving him was an accident or something, but Daryl didn't quite understand how you _accidentally_ handcuff someone to a pipe. There were a lot of STEPS involved there! CHOICES were made! And yeah, his brother was an asshole and a pain in the fucking ass, no doubt, but you don't just HANDCUFF a person to a pipe where there's a bunch of walkers about to spill out, simply because they're being a pain in the ass!

THAT WAS SOME SICK ASS SHIT!

And thinking about that, that this asshole had killed his brother just because he was a DICK, well, Daryl just lost it then.

He went right for his throat.

They both fell to ground, grappling around. That's when Lori started yelling for them both to stop, and then Shane was suddenly there at his back putting him in a choke hold. And that shit was ILLEGAL in Georgia!

He managed to spit that out while he was getting pulled back onto the ground.

Still, he managed get enough of an elbow into Shane once they hit the dirt together, to get himself loose. Then he went right for the other one again. Because that fucker needed to DIE for what he did to his brother! But then he heard someone else, someone besides Lori and Dale, (and Glenn and Andrea . . . and T-Dog) screaming his name.

Carol.

And his head snapped back to see her running across the field from the direction of the RV. Lori caught her before she got to the mess of them there on the ground, but he could see her there watching him with her hands up, and her fingers steepled under her chin. Her whole body was shaking.

She was crying.

And when his furious eyes locked onto her terrified ones, he could see her mouthing over and over, ' _please, stop, bear, please! Please stop!_ '

She was beggin'.

His jaw tightened and twisted.

Because in that moment there when he was filled with an absolute RAGE at these people, and specifically this MAN, for leaving his brother to die, he did NOT want to have to care what that woman over there did or did not want out of this world! But still . . . he let out a tight breath as he shoved Rick away . . . he did. What Carol wanted, and what she _thought_ of him, that mattered to him more than anything.

Especially now that she and Sophia seemed to be all he had left.

So rather than continuing to punch and claw at these asshole cops, he shoved Shane off his back with a hard elbow to his throat. And apparently Shane tried to go after him for that, because then from behind him he heard Lori yelling, "don't you pull that gun, Shane Walsh! Don't you DARE or I'll hit you myself!"

But Daryl didn't care about that new fight now going on where Lori and Rick, the not dead husband, were yelling for Shane to leave him be. No, he just stormed off to the field and over to the tent he used to share with Merle. That's where he dropped down on the ground by the back window flap, put his hands over the back of his head, and his head down into his lap.

Hot tears started to run down his face.

All the while, he was counting down from a hundred, trying to get his grief and rage in check before he actually killed someone, or stroked out there in the grass.

It was when he reached eighty-seven, that he smelled that soft flower shampoo. And then at eighty-five she had her body curled over and wrapped all around his . . . but she didn't say anything.

She just squeezed him SO tight.

So tight, that by the time he'd reached fifty, he didn't have to count anymore. Instead he just let out a slow, ragged, breath, and slowly tipped his head down to rest it on her breast.

She immediately started stroking his hair.

"They left him cuffed, Peach," his voice cracked, "they CUFFED him with a bunch of walkers! I know he was a bastard, but Jesus! He deserved to die better than _that!_ I wouldn't let a DOG die that way!"

"I'm so sorry, bear," she murmured back with a nuzzled kiss to his temple, "and no, it wasn't right at all to leave him behind. But Daryl," she took a breath as her hand stilled, "I don't think they did it because they wanted him to die. Dropping the handcuff key was an accident, T-Dog told me himself, and he feels terrible. And Rick had only cuffed him to start because the group couldn't handle him."

That's when she leaned in closer and pressed her lips to his ear.

"There's more to the story that you didn't hear yet," she continued on softly, "things that the others said earlier when they first got back just after lunch. And you might not want to hear those things now, but I think you should know that everybody who was there said the same thing. And I believe they're telling the truth."

"And what'd _they_ say?" Daryl mumbled against her chest.

There were still clear notes of anger and suspicion in his voice, but Carol was expecting those, because obviously he was grieving and hurt. And he didn't trust those people now.

Not any of them.

So she started rubbing his back with little circles, before she continued on in a gentler tone.

"They said that Merle was acting crazy and violent," she whispered, "and not just normal Merle blustering and poking at people, but really loud and paranoid, yelling right in the middle of the city streets. They said that he was picking ridiculous fights with everyone until he'd stirred up so many walkers from all around that they got trapped in that building where he ended up getting handcuffed. And Rick only did that because Merle was acting like he going to kill T-Dog, and I guess he was still screaming at the others when they were all up there on the roof so the walkers ended up following them up the stairs. They planned to give him the key to get free on his own, but it fell into a hole and they couldn't get it out. So that's when leaving him behind became the only choice, because if they hadn't gotten off the roof when they did, Rick, Glenn and T-Dog would have all died too." She leaned back to give Daryl a sad, worried, look. "I think Merle took some of the bad pills before he left. I think that's why he was so out of control."

Feeling a new wave of sickness in his gut at all Carol had just told him, Daryl winced and brought his hand back to his forehead.

"The motherfuckin' crank," he groaned, "he must've taken some to ball up about goin' in town." He scrubbed his palm across his head, "God damn it, I should've tossed that shit out weeks ago and just taken the beat down he would've given to me for doing it." His voice started to thicken again, "at least then he wouldn't gotta himself dumped off like a piece of _trash_ by those assholes."

Yeah okay, he might've been able to see how a cranked out Merle could have raised up the devil himself there in town, which would've put everyone into a world of shit. But that didn't mean all was forgiven with the rest of them leaving him to die.

That wasn't the kind of thing you just let go with a SORRY!

"Daryl?"

Hearing T-Dog's hesitant murmur coming from off to the left, and knowing now that he was the one who had dropped the key, it took everything in Daryl not to jump up and pummel that son of a bitch straight into the earth. As it was, it was probably only Carol's arms still being around him, that kept him where he was.

"What?!" He barked with an icy glare over to the asshole, "what could you _possibly_ want to say to me right now, you fucking murderer?!"

For a second T-Dog just stood there, eyes wide, almost like he was frozen, with his fists clenching and unclenching. Then he seemed to brace himself right before he let out a slow breath.

"It's just," his jaw clenched as he sucked that breath back in, "um, uh, I think Merle could maybe still be alive."

And Daryl blinked.

"What did you say?"

The question came out as barely a whisper.

"Yeah, um," T-Dog started nervously scratching at his arm, "yeah, it's just that I've been going over it and over it since we got back, and the more I think about it, the more it seems possible. Because when we ran out I did stop and chain the door to keep the walkers from getting to him, and that staircase wasn't wide enough for more than one or two of those things to be lined up at a time. So," his expression brightened with a bit of hope, "it seems like it would've been hard for them to break that chain, and if they didn't get through the door then Merle would still just be there. It's been," T-Dog shot a quick look up to the sky, "well, probably eight or nine hours now so he'd be getting pretty dehydrated out in the sun but even in this heat," he bit his lip, "you can't die of thirst in a day."

"Well Jesus H. Christ, man!" Daryl sputtered as he jumped up from the ground, "why the FUCK didn't you say something about chaining the door before now!?"

T-Dog threw his hands up.

"Because I wasn't SURE if it really mattered that I did!" He shot back in what sounded like half anger, half panic. "It all happened so fast with him flipping out, then us trying to not die getting out of the building and then the city, and man, I know he's your brother, but he really did try to KILL me! And if it was me stuck on that roof, you know he would've left me to die without even a glance over his shoulder, let alone a chain on the door. But these past few weeks," he continued on with a breath, "you've shown that you're different from him. A lot different. So I know that _you_ wouldn't have left me if you could help it," he rolled his eyes, "at least before today you wouldn't have left me. So," he shook his head, "I really don't know if that chain held, Daryl, but I really don't want your brother to be dead, so I knew I owed it to you to say something or God wasn't gonna let me rest."

Daryl blinked and looked down, thinking about what T-Dog had said. And as much as it hurt to admit, there was truth there in his words. Because if those two had switched places, Merle most DEFINITELY would've left him alive and kicking, and shut that door in his face without ever saying a word to anyone about it, let alone taking that step to try and keep him safe. So even though he was still pissed that his brother got left at all (his _part_ in that wasn't relevant to the general wrongness of it!) when his head came back up, Daryl's jaw was set.

"Well, you coming in with me, or not?"

The question was posed as a challenge. Basically to see how sorry T-Dog really was about how that shit had gone down. But to his surprise, the black man gave him back a sharp nod.

"Yeah man, accident or not, I dropped the key so I know I own some of this. So I'll be ready to roll in five if you wanna go."

Again Daryl blinked before he looked up to the sky and then turned to face Carol . . . her eyes were watering.

"Get enough water, food, and ammo to last us two days," he murmured half over his shoulder, "and I'll meet you at the truck in a few minutes."

As he heard T-Dog running off to get their supplies for the trip, he saw one of Carol's tears spill over and slide down her cheek.

Seeing it was like a knife in his chest.

"You're going to leave us?" Carol whispered then with a crackle in her voice, because she was sure this was going to be the end. He'd go off to find Merle in a wasteland, and she'd never see him again.

They'd both die in that horrible city.

As soon as she said that though, Daryl scowled as he pulled her to his chest.

He squeezed her so tight she almost gasped from the pain.

"It ain't like that, Peach," he hissed in her ear, "I swear it ain't! I'll be back quick as I can. And I'm sorry I gotta leave, but I just couldn't live with myself if I knew he could still be alive and just stuck, and I didn't even try to save him before it was too late." He pulled away then to give her a hard look.

"I would never leave you alone like that, and I can't leave him."

Feeling a stab in her chest at the realization that Daryl already considered her as important to him as blood kin, Carol knew then that she had no choice but to support him fully on this . . . even if it was going to break her heart to let him go.

So she gave him a sharp nod.

"Okay," she whispered with a teary smile, "you do what you have to, but," and her voice hardened, "you be _so_ careful in there, you hear me?"

Then she continued on with a poke to his chest.

"You do NOT get bit or I will be furious with you. Because you don't get to just come into my life, throw it all up in the air, and then get yourself killed two weeks later."

Though his eyes were watering, Daryl's mouth twisted then with a faint grin.

"I wouldn't dream of it, baby."

Then he reached out to brush his thumb along her cheek, and while he was staring at her lips, he murmured softly, "so can I kiss you goodbye?"

"You'd better!" she huffed back with sniffle and a big grin.

His eyes crinkled then as he leaned down and slanted his head just a bit to the right. At first he only brushed his lips against hers, but then he went with a bit more insistence, because Carol had surprised him by opening her mouth a little. So that kiss was wetter than he'd thought it would be, and now he needed to get a better taste of her. And so he did, along with a tiny bit of exploration with his tongue that he wasn't planning on getting with their short time to say goodbye.

But when he finally broke away with a faint breathlessness, his eyes crinkled as he brought his hand up to cup her jaw.

"You taste like cinnamon," he whispered with a huff.

It was perfect for her. And he could see how she seemed kind of amused that he'd noticed.

"It's those candies you got me from the Dollar Store," Carol murmured while dropping her head to Daryl's chest and slipping her arms around his waist so she could give him a hug.

"I just had one because I knew you'd be coming back from your hunt soon, and we had bad news so I was going to surprise you with a kiss hello," her voice broke, "I didn't know our first kiss would be a goodbye!"

Feeling his eyes start to sting at the crackle in Carol's voice, Daryl had to look down into the dirt for a second. Saying goodbye to her though, it was one of the worst pains he'd felt in a long time. It wasn't as bad of course as thinking Merle was dead, but . . . it was up there. Which was why he gave that woman another tight squeeze, the tightest squeeze he thought she could take . . . now that her ribs were better, the hugs were a lot better too . . . right before he pressed his lips to her ear.

"On my word, Peach," he whispered with a hitch in his voice, "on my _word,_ which is all I got, I'll be back here as soon as I can. Probably not tonight though, 'cuz even if we get in and find him right away alive and pissed, it'll probably end up being safer to hunker in than travel in the pitch black. So worst case, latest I'll be back is tomorrow sundown. Because he's either gonna be alive or dead when we get there, and even if we run into roadblocks and trouble coming and going, we'll still be back on the road as soon as the sun's up."

If only he'd got back earlier, they definitely could have made that roundtrip run today, but there was no telling how hard it was gonna be to get around in that city once the sun went down. No matter what it was going to be dangerous as hell. And it might have only been a couple weeks they'd been together, but leaving this woman behind so he could go off and do something so stupid, and so likely to get him killed . . . being in the city after dark was the worst case imaginable . . . it made him feel like he was ripping something out of his chest. Because Carol and Sophia, they were every good thing he'd always wanted out of this world, and never imagined he could get. Now that he had got 'em though, he was wondering if at the end of this, at some point God was gonna make him choose between them and his brother. The horrible thing about that was, balancing the pain of how he'd felt at the idea of Merle being dead, against the pain of just LEAVING Carol to go on a rescue mission for that asshole, in his heart he already knew who he'd pick.

It wouldn't even be a real choice.

"I'll say a prayer for you," Carol answered Daryl with a sniff and serious nod, "and one for Merle too. I know you think nobody else cares what happens to him, but," she gave him a soft smile, "I do. And I mean that. I hope that he's okay, and when you find him, you tell him that I was worried about him, and that I said a special prayer just for him to be safe."

Merle Dixon was a broken man who had many faults, but without his help Daryl never would have been able to get her and Sophia free from Ed. So for that she would always be grateful to him. Even more than that though . . . even if that freedom was _everything_ . . . Merle was Daryl's brother, and the two of them might get along that well themselves, but she knew that Daryl did love him, so that was another standalone reason by itself why she would never want Merle to come to any harm.

It would break Daryl's heart.

And she could see how what she'd said had touched him, because his eyes had just gotten even shinier. Before he spoke again, he obviously swallowed over a lump in his throat. After that he blinked and looked away before he looked back down to her again.

Then he took a deep breath.

"All right," he started speaking on a heavy sigh, "one more thing. While I'm gone I want you to keep your purse on you all the time. Put a flashlight, that can of the Spam you've been hiding, and two bottles of water in there along with your car keys and the gun and box of ammo I took out of Ed's stuff. It's in my duffel, and it's already loaded so handle it careful and mind the safety like I showed you. If you need to use it, first thing you do is make sure that safety is off. Hopefully you won't need to pull the gun out at all, but either way, you keep that bag, and Sophia, right with you no matter what you're doing or where you are. That way if something bad happens and you gotta run, you two'll have enough to get by until I find you again. And," he gave her a hard look, "if something _does_ happen while I'm gone, if you're already outside, you don't head for the RV, you head for the car straight up. Lock the doors, put the key in the ignition, turn on the engine, and you wait things out in there. If the camp gets overrun with walkers, don't worry about what the others are doing, even Lori. I know you're friends," he gave her hands a squeeze, "and that it'd be hard to let her go, but sometimes you gotta let people go to stay focused. And with this many of us going into the city, there's gonna be less people here who know how to kill a walker. So if things go south, just get out of here. Head for that last little town we passed right before the turn up here towards the quarry. If I get back and see that things have gone to shit, I'll find you around there. Just lock the doors, keep the gun out, and hole up someplace under the trees. If the walkers don't see you moving around, you should be just fine."

Though he hated to be putting these kind of worrisome images in Carol's head . . . he could see how her eyes had kept getting bigger and bigger while he was talking, and they were like saucers now . . . Daryl knew he had to prepare her for worst case. And worst case would be if the camp got overrun while he was away, and then they got separated. So it'd be stupid as shit to not give her a plan to follow if that happened.

It'd be the only way they'd find themselves back to each other.

And he could see her thinking now on what he'd said, right before she swallowed down hard.

"Okay," she murmured with a nod and a tight smile, "I'll get everything ready to run if we have to."

And as her eyes started to water again, she reached out to pat his chest.

"You be safe, Pookie," she murmured with a teary sniffle. So he leaned down and murmured against her lips, "I promise, Peach. And I'll be back real soon."

Then he tipped his head a bit, and gave her one good, solid kiss, of the kind that made them both lose their breath, because hell if he was gonna leave her and not get a good one in before he left. Knowing though how he did have to go, and how being there kissing her was just making him want to stay, finally, with a gasp, he broke away . . . and stepped back. And as Carol's hand came up to cover her mouth, and he saw the tears she'd mostly been blinking away, starting to slide down her face again, he made himself turn around.

He almost slammed smack into Sophia who was running up from the other side of the tent.

Amy was standing off in the distance behind her.

And he could see from the look on that wise little face in front of him, how she'd already heard what was happening.

"You're going away, Daryl?" She asked with a wobble in her voice and a nervous twist of her hands. And hating that she was so upset on his account, he stooped down to her height. Then he reached out to put his hands on her shoulders.

"It's a quick trip, angel," he whispered, "I promise, no more than one day. It's just that Merle got stuck in the city, so I gotta go get him."

Seeing Sophia's eyes widen with a horrible understanding of what "stuck" likely meant, and remembering again that ten was old enough to understand a lot more of this world than he wanted her to, Daryl let out a heavy breath.

"It'll be all right," he soothed, "I'll be back in time to tuck you into bed tomorrow. So you do me a favor," he threw a quick over his shoulder then at Carol looking down at them with her arms crossed at her chest . . . it looked like she was gonna start bawling, "and look after your mama, okay?" His eyes crinkled a bit as they snapped back to Sophia's watery ones.

"If she starts lookin' extra worried," he continued softly, "you remind her how I gave my word to both of you that I'd be back for bedtime. And I don't break my word for nothing."

"Right," she sniffled again, "okay."

Then she leaned over and threw her arms around his neck.

"Don't get stuck too," she sniffled in his ear, and he pulled her into a tight hug as he murmured back, "I promise little one, I won't get stuck. And you stay real close to your mama while I'm gone. Especially if something happens, you hold onto her tight and don't let go for nothing." He leaned back and gave her a serious look, "if you stay together you'll be fine, and we'll all three be back together before you know it."

His last words came out a bit hoarse because he was getting a little choked. Again though, it was killing him to have to leave this one too, knowing how much could go wrong in just a day. Given how attached he was to this little person, and the bigger version of her standing behind him, it was damn near impossible to believe he'd only known the two of them for the short time that he had. Since the turn though, weeks felt like months, so it kind of felt like he'd known them both forever.

It was just then from off behind him that he heard someone clear his throat.

T-Dog.

"Daryl," he called out, "I'm sorry to interrupt but Glenn and uh, you know, Rick, they've decided to come with us too and we're all ready to go if you are."

Daryl's jaw clenched.

"Yeah, okay," he ground out while still staring down at Sophia staring up at him with those big, watery, brown eyes, "be right there."

It wasn't until he heard the scuff and shuffle of T-Dog's boots moving away, that he reached out to pull Sophia up and into one more quick hug. And with her arms wrapped so tight around his neck and her head on his shoulder, he just closed his eyes for a second. Because there was something he could've said to her then, something he _wanted_ to say to her then, but . . . he bit his tongue. Mostly because the three words he wanted to say to that little girl, the same three that had flittered through his head when he was hugging her mama, were ones he really had never said to anyone before.

 _I love you._

His whole life though, he'd never had cause to say those words to another person. And it was scary as hell thinking about saying 'em now. Mostly because it still seemed too soon. Christ, can you really grow to love folks over just a couple of weeks? Honestly, he had no frigging clue 'cuz he had no point of reference on such a thing. All he knew for sure, was that thinking about something happening to either of them . . . it made him feel like throwing up. So was that what love was? Feeling sick at the idea of having to go on without that person?

Maybe.

Or maybe it was just nerves about leaving them alone. Either way . . . he slowly leaned over to put Sophia down . . . today wasn't the right day to try and figure out the difference. So before he let himself think anymore about the choice he was making to leave the only two people who had ever really made him feel happy, to go find the one who had spent his whole life getting a kick out of making him feel like shit, he gave Sophia a gentle push back into Carol's arms. And though he could see how they were both crying now, he just set his jaw and turned away. Then he put his hand up to hold his bow in place and started running towards the cars, and the men there waiting on him.

He didn't look back to his girls again.

/*/*/*/*

Carol looked down at her barely touched bowl of rice, and then over to Sophia sitting across from her at the table.

She hadn't even picked up her fork.

And though she hated to force her daughter to eat when she clearly had no appetite . . . Carol herself had barely swallowed down two bites before her stomach started to churn . . . she couldn't let her skip a meal either. Not when she was already losing weight as is. So she was gentle while reaching over to squeeze her daughter's hand.

"Sweetie," she whispered, "I know you're worried about Daryl, I am too. We still have to keep eating though, because food is the fuel that keeps our bodies going, and if we skip meals, we'll get sick."

When Sophia lifted her head at that, and Carol saw the little furrow of worry in her brow, she gave her daughter's fingers another squeeze.

"Eat two bites for me," she said with a faint smile, "two bites for him, and one for yourself. If there's still anything left after that, we'll just save it for later."

It was hard to see the way that her daughter winced at that request, like it really pained her to think about being forced to eat, but rather than arguing, she just let out a sigh and picked up her fork.

Then she began to slowly pick away at the bowl of rice and vegetables in front of her.

So Carol tried to put some energy into eating her own meal . . . if only to match the five bites she'd just talked her daughter into eating . . . but really, it felt more like she was choking down paste than rice. It wasn't even the quality of the food, which was still pretty decent given how it came from the Chinese restaurant, it was just that she had as much appetite as her daughter did.

Less probably.

It was just too hard to get these knots out of her stomach when it was becoming clearer with each passing minute, that Daryl was definitely going to be stuck overnight in the city. And even though he'd warned her that the odds were very low that they'd be able to get in there and back in under four hours . . . the window of time they'd had between leaving the quarry and full sundown . . . somehow she'd been holding onto a sliver of hope that it still might happen.

That hope evaporated when the storm clouds blew in a few hours ago.

Because she knew that the rain would slow them down and make the trip even more dangerous. The latter point was one she was trying not to dwell on, but again, as she slowly ground the ball of mushy rice between her teeth, it was pretty much the only point in her head. It didn't help when she suddenly remembered what Lori had told her later, after both of their men had left. That her husband said when he'd been caught up in the herd of walkers, that he'd been forced to drop a full bag of guns and ammunition that he'd collected from his old police barracks, and that obviously if he was going back into the city for Merle, then he was definitely going to grab up that bag again too. So that was TWO 'errands' the men were running, errands that were conceivably multiple city blocks apart from each other so . . . she swallowed . . . yeah, her fears really were put into perspective when she thought about it like that. Because it really would be a miracle if they all made it back to camp again without incident. God, incident nothing.

They'd be lucky if they all got out alive.

Thinking about the averages though, that wasn't going to do her any good. So instead, while she slowly picked away at her bowl of rice and baby carrots . . . while watching her daughter do the same . . . Carol made herself reset her brain by running through all of the safety checks again. The ones Daryl had drilled into her head before he left. After he'd left, she'd made herself practice holding Ed's old gun just so she could get used to the weight of it, and really, her own fear of it too.

After all it was the gun her husband had terrorized her with for years.

In her mind though, she felt that if she faced those fears now while things were quiet and "safe," then if the moment came where things stopped being safe, and she really needed to use the gun for defense, she'd be less likely to freeze up.

Which was actually the same exact reason that she'd had Sophia practice holding the knife that afternoon.

Even if it was still too big (and sharp) for her to use by herself, if something happened while Daryl was gone, Carol was adamant about making sure they'd be able to keep themselves alive until he got back. And if they couldn't even HOLD these weapons without hurting themselves, how could they ever hope to survive in this world?

They wouldn't.

So practice would be the word of the day for now. At least until Daryl was with them again. Then he could start teaching them other, practical, ways to stay safe. Like fighting, that would be a good one.

God knew she'd like to learn how to throw a punch instead of just taking one.

In the meantime though, once she and Sophia had both eaten as much as they could, Carol combined the remaining rice and vegetables from both of their meals into just her bowl . . . it was maybe a half cup's worth of food altogether . . . and laid a plastic saucer over the top to keep the bugs off it.

Ordinarily at that point, with the storm long passed and the sun basically down, routine would say that they'd settle in around the fire for at least an hour. But without Daryl there, and his advisories on staying very aware of their surroundings while he was gone, Carol decided that it would be best for her and Sophia to do what they'd done for the majority of the time since he'd left.

Stay inside the trailer.

So she had Sophia go get the little stack of puzzle books that Daryl had brought them, and they settled in for a round of Mad Libs. Carol picked that one on purpose because it was the game that Sophia liked to play with Daryl. Since that day when they'd dried out together by the fire and had built the story about the lady elephant riding a motorcycle, the two of them had created a few other silly animal tales. One with a raccoon in a leather jacket who stole (then crashed) a police car, and then another, with a flying squirrel in a red bandana who drove a pickup truck. And in honor of the animal stories that Daryl helped her daughter craft, Carol chose a tiger as her first noun. Ten minutes later that tiger was dressed in an evening gown and purple feathered boa and dancing with a grizzly bear in the middle of a cruise ship. Her story wasn't quite as much fun as the ones Daryl managed to conjure up, but the imagery was still enough to get a little smile out of Sophia. Which meant that it was enough for Carol.

It had been her daughter's first smile since before Daryl had left.

And it was just when they were about to start a second story, that Lori knocked on the screen door asking if they'd mind some company. Carol said of course not, and she even managed to do it with a smile even though some tiny part of her blamed Lori's husband for Daryl being gone. Of course she knew that was irrational. By everyone's accounts of that morning's trip, Merle had already been high as a kite and acting like a raving psychopath before Rick Grimes had ever come across his path. So even if Rick was the one who had cuffed Merle to the roof, the person most responsible for Daryl having to go into the city to (try) to save his brother, was Merle himself.

Those were the hard facts of the matter.

Besides that, Carol knew how much pain Lori and Carl had already gone through in believing that Rick was dead all these weeks, so clearly with him going away again right away, they would be having so much harder a time right now than her and Sophia were. Obviously their two week old relationships with Daryl couldn't be compared with their lifelong relationships to Rick.

It would be cruel to suggest otherwise.

So in an effort to be _kind_ , Carol made space for Lori on her side of the bench, while a much more subdued than usual Carl, slid in with Sophia on the other. Then they played teams . . . moms against kids . . . for the next Mad Libs round. Playing with a little boy, even one who wasn't quite himself that night, they still ended up using words like "booger" and "fart." But that was kind of the point of the game when it came to kids, and getting to actually use them in the story (without any admonishment from their mothers) made both Carl and Sophia giggle, so she and Lori just smiled and shook their heads.

It was what moms did to keep their kids happy.

Things were going along well enough until out of the corner of her eye, Carol spotted someone moving out in the shadows beyond the front windshield. Her brow darkened as she risked a full glance.

It was Shane.

Apparently he was spying on the four of them. It was very creepy. Creepy enough that as her eyes fell back to the table, Carol's concerns about Daryl's safety in the city, were unexpectedly eclipsed by her concerns about what Shane might be thinking about doing there at the quarry with Daryl and Rick gone. Because Lori had already been nervous about Shane's behavior before Rick's return, and she'd clearly been stunned to find her husband alive when _Shane_ (and Lori had told Carol this directly) had been the one who had assured her that he'd died in that hospital before the turn.

Clearly that had been a lie.

A rather grotesque one really, if Shane had just left his best friend there in a coma to rot. It made Carol feel kind of sick at the idea of a man who was apparently SO disturbed, but who had masked it so well for so long. Because this thing with Rick had predated the episode with Daryl and the gun.

And abandoning his partner like that just to get to his wife, was SO much more alarming!

Which was why Carol wasn't sure what to do now that she'd spotted this dangerous man "lurking" out there in the dark. Should she tell Lori and risk her going out there to confront him . . . which again, could end very badly with both Rick and Daryl away . . . or just try to ignore him and pray he'd wander off sooner than later?

Carol's dilemma was resolved when Lori suddenly muttered, "son of a bitch," under her breath, and that's when she knew that the spy had been spotted. And feeling her friend's whole body tense like she was about to stand up, Carol slipped her hand over and under the table, to squeeze her knee.

"Just sleep in here tonight," she murmured with her other hand half over her mouth and her words too quiet for the giggling children to hear, "I have a free bunk for you, and a clean sleeping bag for Carl. It'll be safer in here than the tent."

It only took a moment before she felt Lori's hand cover over hers.

She gave it a squeeze back.

"Thank you," she breathed out with a faint sniff, "that does sound like our best option."

So with that, and now holding hands under the table, the two women continued on playing this silly game with their children, all while pretending that a creepy man wasn't standing out there in the shadows watching them.

Finally though, enough time passed that Sophia began to yawn. Then Carl. And finally Lori did too. Yawns were contagious though, everyone knew that. And it actually was a perfect moment for Carol to 'publicly' suggest that the other two just sleep there in the back of the RV. That it just made more sense to double up inside when there would be less security around the camp that night.

That's when Lori pretended to give the suggestion a moment's thought before she nodded and agreed.

"We can keep Sophia and Carol company tonight, right Carl?" She asked her son with a smile. And his eyes crinkled slightly as he looked over at his young friend.

"Yeah," he bit his lip, "okay."

And fortunately it wasn't strange these days to simply sleep in your regular day clothes, (you never knew when you might have to run for your life) so Lori didn't even have to run back to the tent for their pajamas or anything else. They just sent the kids into the bathroom to do a quick dry spit scrub of their teeth . . . even if they were conserving toothpaste, brushing each night with just spit got the food bits out . . . before sending them in the back to roll out the sleeping bag on the floor.

At that point they were planning to just go lie down because it was definitely close to the kids' bedtime but then Carl said he had to go to the bathroom. Of course Sophia piped up then that she did too. And on another day they might have just sent them back into the RV one to conduct their business, but Carl's cheeks reddened at that idea so it became clear that he had to do something besides just pee. Nobody liked to poop behind a 'folded' door. You always had a captive audience.

Not to mention the smell lingered in that small, overheated, space.

So after shooting each other a look, Carol squeezed Lori's arm and murmured, "we'll go together."

It wasn't ideal but as they say, if you gotta go, you gotta go. And she wasn't going to let these two go out alone. Because even though her main priority was Sophia, still, she'd never forgive herself if she let Lori be put into a dangerous situation with Shane. And to that end, as they stepped outside with their flashlights and their guns, into that faint grey, shadowy, light that was left so late in the day, Carol called over to Andrea and Amy sitting by the fire, asking if they'd like to do a walk over to the latrine.

Andrea, even for her issues in so many other areas, could always be counted to step up when the other women needed help. So in response to Carol's request, she immediately came to her feet, calling back, "of course," as she gave Amy a poke in the arm.

With the Harrison sisters for additional company, Carol was SURE now that Shane would keep his distance from them as they crossed the field. And sure enough, they were able to get over to the latrine ditch and for everyone to do their business in (relative) safety, with minimal privacy and no harassment from Shane.

There was no sign of him really.

And of course with the later hour, and how close their bathroom area was to the trees . . . ten paces back . . . Lori stayed right with Carl even though he was clearly mortified that she wouldn't give him the space to poop in private.

"Private pooping went out with real doors, honey," was all she said before going back to humming The Star Spangled Banner to drown out the sounds of her son going to the bathroom. Once he was done though, and fortunately he didn't take long, with the other women still keeping watch on the area, Lori quickly peed and they were all back on their way again.

They were about halfway across the field, flashlight beams bouncing in the overgrown grass, with only the faintest of faint illumination from the sky, when suddenly there was a child's scream from out by the fire.

And then, "WALKERS!"

Carol froze as her nails dug into Sophia's arm, and her heart started to gallop in her chest. Then Andrea took off in a run flat out towards the continuing screams across the way. Though God only knew if she could shoot straight on a good day, let alone in a crisis, but she was clearly going to put herself into the mix whether she was going to get herself killed or not. Either way she was gone in a flash with Amy screaming for her to come back as Carol and Lori shoved their terrified children between them and frantically ran their flashlight beams over the darkness around them.

They both had their guns out again.

Carol's hand was shaking.

The section of field they were in though, luckily it still seemed to be safe even if all hell was breaking loose just beyond tents. It sounded like everyone who was left in the camp, a good twelve people maybe, were screaming. Screaming in pain, screaming family members' names, just plain old screaming for God. God hadn't shown His face in a while though, so Carol wasn't sure why anybody thought he'd show up for them tonight.

It was in that moment of panic and terror though that she somehow managed to remember Daryl's last instructions to her if they were attacked while he was away.

Run.

If ever there was a moment when that seemed to be sound advice, this one was it. So with everyone else in a state of chaos, and Lori hissing that they should try to hide in the quarry, that they'd be safer on the other side of the water, Carol just grabbed Sophia's hand and took off across the field diagonally, heading towards the road where they had the cars parked. In front of her the beam of light was bouncing in the grass, behind her she could hear her friends yelling for her to come back.

She didn't even turn her head.

Part of her hated leaving them behind, but there was no time to make arguments and convince other people that her insane idea to run twice the distance (and skirt around the walkers coming from the trees) was the smarter one. Time lost in that kind of an argument might end up getting them killed. So even if she was in a state of complete terror, with her heart in her throat, and panicked tears starting to run down her face, she felt almost confident in the choice she'd made to grab her child and go. And though Carol's fight or flight instincts at least supported them running away, there was a little voice in her head that kept screaming how she should have stayed with Lori. That there was more safety in numbers. That wasn't really true though. Because the walkers were being drawn in by the screams of the dying, and the glow from the fire.

They needed to get far away from both.

And luckily with a flashlight, combined with the starlight from a clear sky over an empty field, they were able to see the outline of the walkers pretty well. So she and Sophia were able to avoid the creatures still stumbling out of the trees, heading towards the chaos off in the main part of the camp.

"Mama!"

Sophia's sobbed address came just as a walker suddenly appeared directly ahead of them in the bouncing beam of light.

It was a terrifying thing to come out of the darkness, and Carol couldn't help but let out her own terrified yelp. Still though, she kept herself and her daughter moving, now running to the side, heading to the cars not forty paces out now.

And though she could see something in the shadows over by Shane's jeep, her Scout . . . parked on the other side of the dirt lot . . . appeared to be walker free.

"Driver's side, honey," she gasped to her daughter, even while she was still pulling her along, "door's unlocked! Get in, dive across to the passenger side, hit the lock and put on your seatbelt!"

Hearing her daughter sob back a terrified, "I want Daryl!" broke Carol's heart, but there was nothing to do be done about that now. She just panted, "I know sweetie, I know, I want him too, but we just have to get to the car! Then we'll be safe until he gets back! So you do as I say and get that door locked, okay?!"

"Okay!" Was the muffled sob that time, and that was enough.

Because the door was right there.

So she yanked it open and gave her gasping daughter a slingshot into the open space.

As Sophia dove across the seat, Carol went to jump in right after her but another walker stumbled out from behind the rear bumper.

She just caught it in the glint of the light she was about to throw into the car.

It was so close there wasn't time for her to follow after her daughter, or even to be afraid of missing the target.

She just fired.

Pulling the trigger over and over until the bullets stopped coming out. And shockingly, given how she'd never actually fired a gun before, she did hit the mark . . . the walker itself at least . . . but her aim wasn't quite good enough to make the head shot to kill it. Still, the repeated impact to the torso was enough to knock that thing to the ground, and that was all Carol needed to get inside the Scout and slam the door shut behind her.

She smashed her hand down on the lock.

Then with Sophia doubled over and sobbing . . . and her own half hysterical, half panic driven tears running down her face . . . Carol was fumbling to get the key into the ignition. And when that still not dead walker smashed into the driver's side window, causing both her and Sophia to scream again, the engine rumbled to life.

Her foot smashed down on the gas and off they went, bouncing over the rocks and grass, heading towards the unpaved road that would wind them down the hill and away from the quarry.

It wasn't until they'd reached that road, and were racing down the hill, with dirt flying all around them, that Carol finally risked fumbling to reach over and grab her daughter's hand.

"We're okay, honey!" She gasped, trying desperately to get that note of hysteria out of her voice . . . it was just going to terrify her already terrified daughter, "we're okay! See, we're safe! We made it! And now we're just going to find a good place to hole up until Daryl finds us. And he and I, we already planned for this, so he knows where to look for us, so it'll be okay, I promise!"

As promises went, that was perhaps one which circumstances might prevent her from keeping, but really, as long as they did exactly as Daryl said and just stayed quiet inside the car, with the doors locked, they should be fine.

God willing.

At least she had more bullets for the gun too, because that was what really mattered. And also luckily, the week before, when Daryl had been cleaning all the guns in camp, she'd watched him, (over and over) reload those weapons at the end of every cleaning. So even though she'd never done it before, she was fairly confident that wouldn't be a stumbling block for her.

Again, God willing.

And as she began to mentally run through those steps in her head . . . she wanted to be ready to get her primary means of defending herself and Sophia in working order again the SECOND they stopped the car . . . suddenly another set of headlights appeared out of the darkness.

They were speeding right at them.

Her eyes popped.

"OH SHIT!

* * *

 _A/N 2: In writing this obviously I'd had to give Merle's unrealistically insane behavior in the city that resulted in him getting locked onto the roof, a lot of consideration. And I decided for that to work at all, (as in would I even include that plot point for my story) for a man who actually was not an idiot, (racist asshole, yes, stupid, no) he HAD to have dipped into his magic bag that day. On re-watch Rick has kind of a throwaway line on the roof that he might be high, but it shouldn't be a throwaway. Given his behavior was basically suicidal . . . they were in a city surrounded by tens of thousands of walkers and he was a raving nut who was completely useless for their mission at hand . . . him being high was a HUGE element to that narrative. Because without stressing front and center that he's drugged out of his mind, it just looks like horrible writing. That we're supposed to believe this guy is actually SO much of a redneck, cracker ass, hillybilly, racist, moron that he would rather get himself, and everyone else, all eaten alive rather than simply "tolerate" being around two black people for the day. Seriously. They'd all been living in the camp for at least a week and hadn't murdered each other yet, so clearly some 'détente' had been reached with Merle and T-Dog. Because if it hadn't been, then there's no way that the group would have put that combination of people together on a supply run. See there, the simplest of logic threads smashes right through that scene. It's frustrating when professional writers, paid to do this stuff, don't follow the same logic guidelines. So to walk it back even further, it seems much more in line with the character we know from later on, that Merle would never admit to being afraid to go into the city. So he figured if he just went in tweaked, then, voila, he wouldn't be afraid. He could continue to bluster and not give a fuck like usual, but for real. I think he took too much though, and that's how his plan backfired royally with the whole, 'having to saw off his own wrist' thing. But, live and learn, as they say :) Again, just one of those things I'd have loved to have seen called back to after he and Daryl were reunited. "Like yeah little brother, I overdid the crank that day! Ha!" while he's waving his knife arm around. Four seconds of snarky Merle dialogue would have retroactively made that whole roof scene much better. So yes, again, frustrating!_

 _I very deliberately decided to stay in camp with Carol rather than going into the city with Daryl because we already saw his trip onscreen, and I didn't think we needed to see it again :) Elements will have turned out differently of course, (just like the instant replay on Rick's first meeting with the group) and obviously you'll find out later what did and didn't happen as we saw it in canon, but I just felt like it would mostly be a rehash to make his activities the focus again, when we could just take a fresh approach back with the women. So again here, to make it clear that we are in an AU, the big attack on the camp (which I say still happens because Glenn still left the city in that car with the alarm screaming) goes VERY differently simply for the few changes we've had so far. Carol's trying to keep Lori safe from stalkery Shane who we know 'just wants to talk,' so they're all off in the field together with the kids and the Harrison sisters rather than all of them at the fire when everyone's attacked. And Carol has Daryl's instructions to her to just run and get the hell out if they get overrun, so that's what she does. It is the smartest move when you have no place to shelter and I also really wanted to blow up everything about the canon attack._

 _Which is also why there is no immediate swoop in of the guys with the guns to save everyone._

 _The timing of events here is different (Daryl didn't go on an overnight hunt because he has Carol/Sophia, so he's only gone the day) so they've only been gone five or six hours at this point, which means basically the only good fighter left in the camp at that time, is Shane. Maybe Morales. In canon the number of walkers that hit them were in the double digits, so how are they supposed to handle that many alone? So the deaths/death count could be very different here. And remember all of the unnamed 'extras' (random faces we'd see in the background but never saw after the attack) were part of the dead the first time around._

 _And side note to the rescue trip, reminder that Merle hasn't been left overnight yet, which could impact his decision to hack off his wrist. I feel like unless you're in imminent danger, you'd probably give it a solid 24 hours before you accepted nobody was coming back for you and that you needed to go nuclear to get free. Keep in mind ALSO though for future plot points, there is already a clear resentment forming here with Merle over Daryl choosing to spend his time with Carol and Sophia rather than him. He knows he's already losing his control over his brother, so… we'll see what happens :)_

 _To Daryl's 'lullaby' I stand by the belief that for him to have turned out as a good person then someone early on had to love him when it mattered. So his first few years on the planet. And we know his dad was shit, so I think logically he had a good mom for a couple years, or at least one who tried her best, even if she did have a drinking problem. So here, he wants a way to help Sophia and he remembers his mama singing Dylan to him, so he hums the words that comforted him when he was little. As long as you go with it more as half asleep 'humming' than actual 'singing,' then it works :)_

 _Lastly, they finally kissed! Remember Daryl was waiting for the bruises on her face to heal, so the timing lined up well here with his departure. But obviously I couldn't send him off on a dangerous rescue mission without at least kicking them forward on that step to make them officially not platonic. I also wanted that delineation between their feelings for each other and the Grimes family situation. That Daryl is starting to wonder if he could have actually grown to love these two people over just a few weeks, against Carol's understanding that no matter what they feel, it's still not the same as what Lori and Carl are going through. It's just a little tweak that's always bugged me on the show, in how they treat relationships that literally, LITERALLY, lasted maybe a week, like lifelong commitments that should be afforded the same respect as real, devoted, partners. Tyreese and Karen, anyone? I get having your new girlfriend burned to a crisp would be 'upsetting' but not 'murderous rage' upsetting. They'd kissed like once! Just saying, some things work in the moment because there are good actors in the scene, but upon reflection, really make no sense at all. Anyway, that's why I'm kind of easing into the level of the C/D/S attachments. I think three weeks, if you are living and breathing each other, every single day and night, could be enough time to grow to love someone, but it's still different than an old married couple and their kid. It's just not right to pretend it's the same :)_

 _Side note: This Is Now, I'm almost done proofing that chapter too. I got sidetracked over here when I got that message from Nine Lives about the story getting picked, and I ended reading over the last chapter again. Which led me into this new one!_

 _And next time around, we will definitely be on the cusp of the end. If not ending in that chapter, (depending on how long it gets) then the one after, then we'll pick up with a new story for life post the quarry._

 _Thanks all!_


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